POEMS. 



DR. W? 




GLE. 







COPYKIGHT, 

BY DR. W. A. ENGLE, 
A.D., 1883. 



Celestial Muse, with powers divine, 
touch my feeble tongue ! — 

Since unborn thoughts with my mind 
Are struggling to be sung ; 

O give them Inspiration's breath, 

That they may breathe, and live ; 

Thus, being born to life, from death, 
Them, of thy fullness give. 

And thou, great God, who fills life's cup, 
Give me the power of song, 

That I may rear crushed virtue up. 
And put down vaunting wrong. 



PREFACE. 



In presenting to the public the following poems, we 
do not claim for them any great degree of excellence 
or perfection, being composed when surrounded by, and 
engaged in, the busy conflicts of life, and have always 
been made objects of secondary importance. We desire, 
therefore, that the reader will read with a spirit of 
charity, and overlook all errors ; discard the evil, and 
cherish only the good ; and being governed by the good, 
will enter into the spirit of the author, and we humbly 
hope that thereby he will find some small interest in 
their perusal. Yours, 

W. A. Engle, Author. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Truth, ...----. 9 

Sin, 12 

Lines Written on the Death of a Young Child, - - - 14 

The Workings of the Human Mind, - ... . 15 

ASohloquy, 17 

Lines Written to a Brother, .... - 19 

The Pleasant Wife, -...-- 23 

O Liberty, Why Slumber Long, - - - - 26 

The Young Consumptive's Prayer, - - - - 28 

Life, - - 29 

A Visit to the Scenes of Childhood, - - - - 31 

Fashion and Health, ^^ 

Evening Meditation, - - - - " - 34 

The Forged Will, - - - - ■ " ^^ 

Fifty Years Old. . - - - - - 43 

How Weak and Frail is Man, ----- 46 
Lines Written on the Death of a Young Lady, - 



Parting at School, - ■• - - 

Friendship, - - - " 

Knowledge and Virtue, Wisdom and Truth, 
Our Mother, - - - " 

A Vision of the Mind, 



49 



53 
55 



The Works of Nature, ..... 51 

Scenes of Despair, ----•' 
Scenes of Joy and Hope, - - ■ ' ' 

Lines Written on the Close of School, - - - " ^^ 

Adieu to the Days of Childhood, , . - - 60 

- 61 



64 



70 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Tragic Scenes of Real Life, . . . . . ^q 

A Nightly Scene, -..-... 94 

The Ancient Castle, ---... 95 

O for a Walk Among the Stars, • - - - - 98 

Keflections on the Setting Sun, . _ . . iqO 

Liberty, -------- 103 

Independence Day, - - - - - - 105 

The Author's Twenty-first Birthday, - - - - 107 

The Three Lovers; or Deceit Revenged, - - - 110 

Where Shall we Find Repose, - . - > . 123 

Mystery of Mysteries, ----.. 104 

A Return to the Scenes of Academic Days, - - - 133 

Lines Written to Wife, ..... 135 

A Dream, ---..... 135 

A Miscellany, ---.... 140 

A Letter of Early Manhood, - - - - - 141 

Lines Written on the Death of a Young Man, - - 143 

Lines Written on the Christmas Eve of 1881, - - - 145 

Autumn, - . . ^ . . . 149 

Lines Written to a Friend, - - - - - 151 

Old Allegany, ...... 154 

O For an Hour of Sober Thought, - - - - 159 

Behold the Varied Forms of Human Nature, - - 160 

The Medical Faculty of -the University of Michigan, - - 169 

Solis, or King of the Sun, - - - - - 173 

The Husband's Lament, -.--.. 193 

Smithfield ; or the Forgiven Murder, - - . - 205 

The Three Beauties; or Tom Moore. - - - - 227 

Lines Written on the x\ssassination of President Garfield, - 265 



POEMS 



TRUTH. 



O Truth, thou source of never-ending joy ! 

O gift from heaven, which hand can not destroy, 

Come thou, and in the sinful breast of man 

Fix thine abode. So order, fit and plan, 

That thou may'st build in each and every breast 

A place fit for thy dwelling and thy rest. 

Teach him to know thy worth, O, nobler, far. 

Than all that wealth can bring by peace or war. 

The golden dust that glitters on the shore. 

Or costliest trophies, drenched in human gore. 

In fulness ne'er can be compared to thee, 

O stream divine, whose source is Deity; 

For thou canst make below a heaven of earth, ^ 

Could mortals know and realize thy worth. 

But oh, how far from thy bright, shining way 
Have Earth's indulgent sons wander'd astray ! 
Neglectful of thy precepts, ever bright. 
Till thou art lost to conscience and to sight ; 
And Vice and Sin, around their guardless heads, 
Pour down the thickest night — darkness o'erspreads 
Their vision — on they rush in deeper gloom. 
Till death they meet, and tumble in the tomb ; 

(9) 



10 TRUTH. 

A tomb disgraced by drunkenness and crime ; 

They, by corruption from the shores of time, 

Shov'd otf into a future all unknown, 

AYhere dark despair sits on his ebon throne, 

And Misery and Regret triumphant reign, 

And awful agony and ceaseless pain 

Send their wild waitings 'round this dark domain. 

For the cold grave ends not the direful scene ; 

Death seals their ftite, and draws a veil between 

These everlasting torments and our e3^es. 

And dark and dreadful there all hidden lies; 

While those on whom thy virtues deign to shine, 

Though few they are compared with all mankind. 

Walk in the light of heaven, and 'round their heads 

The light of wisdom its effulgence sheds ; 

Beaming in cloudless splendor, and so bright 

That it the course of life through darkest night 

Illumes, and points them to that narrow way. 

From which so many seem so prone to stray ; 

The way that brings serenity and rest. 

To those who walk therein ; and in each breast 

Builds up a heaven, a pure and holy zeal, 

AVhich none can e'er express, though the}^ may feel^ 

Cheers them on — overcomes each threatening wave, 

Robs Death of fear, and shines into the grave ; 

Showing beyond, eternity all bright, 

Where Bliss and Pleasure smile on fond Delight, 

And everlasting joys abundant flow. 

And rapture sweetly sings, to feel, and know, 

That from the throne of the Almighty God, 

Where center power from all his works abroad. 



TRUTH. 11 

Love's never failing streams forever pour, 

Where drink the saints renew'd forever more, 

With youthful life and natures all divine ; 

Here, too, they bathe their beauteous forms, and shine 

In splendor all anew — joy in their eyes 

And ecstacies in every mein ; — they rise 

And with the voice of endless praise, thus given, 

With hallelujahs ring the courts of heaven. 

O then ! since wheresoe'cr thy lamps of Wisdom shine 
The sinful and the foul are made divine, 
And their iniquity before thee fly 
As darkness from the earth, and air, and sky. 
When morning light breaks in, the copse to clear, 
And hydra-headed crime abash'd with fear 
Retires before thy gaze — since, wheresoe'er 
Thy searching light chance but to feebly glow, 
All things licentious wail out in their woe ; 
And clothVl in their deceit flee from thy rays 
In hurried flight to seek the misty maze. 
To revel there in drunkenness and glee, 
Unwarn'd, unbridl'd, unrestrainVl by thee, — 
Since pure enjoyment all thy footsteps bring, 
And at thy touch all of our frailties spring- 
Triumphant o'er the seeming darkest gloom — 
Since thou can'st shine into the dismal tomb ; 
Why not extend thy pure and purging light. 
O'er wide creation ; and Pollution's night 
Chase out ? till neither place or spot be found. 
Where it could light to spread its influence round ? 
Till Vice from vast immensity shall flee 



12 SIN. 

And all iniquity be lost in thee ? 
And raging sin from earth be chased afar, 
That she no more may wage infernal war 
With Virtue's noble sons and ne'er again, 
Devour with fiendish rage, the souls of men, 
Till trouble, pain, and grief, shall pass away 
As night's deep shade before the king of day ; 
And ceaseless pleasure, love, and peace be given, 
To all below ; and Earth become as heaven. 



SIN. 

Dark as the heaving tide that oceans roll 
Sin's awful burden hisses round the soul — 
Hides the bright beams of Truth from every eye, 
As gathering storms eclipse the mid-day sky. 
And, fearful, blighting as the dread simoon, 
Leaves the sick soul a desert, and in gloom ; 
Upon Avhose burning sands each Virtue's flower 
Droops its fair head, and withers in an hour. 
Far more destructive than the upas tree — 
Death to each noble deed — to you, and me. 

Dark Guilt sits swimming in her angry eye. 
And breathing Viee, its venomed arrows fly 
And fix themselves within the human breast, 
Corrupts the man, and murders all his rest. 
And as the fearful tempest tosts the main. 
Or, the dread whirl- wind rudely sweeps the plain 
Prostrating forests level with the ground. 



SIN. 13 

So sin, each monument of truth hurls down ; 
Our baser passions into billows roll, 
Whose direful rage brooks not the least control. 
Wrecks Reason, swallows Conscience, and a slave 
Drives on her wretched victims to the grave ; 
And, here a dark Eternity unfolds 
With Death, the key. Here, monster Discord rolls 
Its restless sides in awful wretchedness and ire, 
And Hate looks forth a thousand horrors dire ; 
And deep Corruption, that foul thing, here reigns, 
Bathes in tierce wrath, and breathes Satanic flames. 
Nor these alone the form of misery wear. 
Numberless unknown to man in deep despair 
Wade through the dismal gloom, and there drink in, 
To quench their burning thirsts, the draughts of Sin, 
Which add to their desires new cravings still. 
That ever o^naw insatiate as their will. 
And Torment, mad with rage, and wild with pain, 
Sends his loud railing 'round the dark domain. 

Then whosoe'er would shun these hateful scenes. 
Refrain from Sin, and all her artful schemes ; 
And learn, that Truth, and Faith, and Love, 
Are heavenly spirits, from the realms above. 



14: LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG CHILD. 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG 
CHILD. 



And is he gone — the lov'd, the cherished one, 

Who had life's journey merely just begun? 

On whom fond parents look'd with rare delight, 

To see him hale, intelligent and bright, 

Ready to meet their greetings with a smile ? 

Ah yes ! is gone ! and on that simple child 

Pale Death has fixed for aye his fatal seal. 

Secure as destiny ; and will not yield. 

O Death ! Why didst thou clip that flower so young, 

While life was in the bud, and yet unsprung 

To manhood's prime ? Why in thy fatal aim, 

Crush so many hopes — -fond, alas ! but vain ? 

Why rob a tender mother of her joy ? 

Or strip a father of his darling boy ? 

And leave a station silent, lone, and still. 

Which no one can supply, none ever fill ? 

Alas I that face shall at the open door, 

A¥elcome his ftither's wished return, no more. 

That happy, "Pa, Pa," from his childish tongue. 

Which had such music while it ling'ring hung 

On his mild lips, and fullness in its tone, 

Has died away — ah yes ! forever flown. 

And those bright sunny smiles Ave'll see no more • 

Nor hear his tales — all these are past and o'er. 

And at the table — oh, that vacant seat ! 



THE WORKINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND. 15 

How throbs a mother's heart when there they meet, 
How thrills the father's breast with aching pain — 
That absent one with them ne'er meets again. « 
For cold and silent 'neath the grassy sod, 
He lies unknown to all, but heaven and God. 



THE WORKINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND. 



None but to reason and reflection blind, 

Have failed to watch the workings of the mind ; 

How thoughts on thoughts roll o'er the thinking soul, 

Each strengthening each ; each wielding its control ; 

Each moulded, yet is limitless and free ; 

Each, having source, yet boundless ^ the sea. 

Awakened by some thought that goes before, 

Great waves, incessant as the ocean's roar. 

Rush o'er the soul in one continual strain. 

Now die away, now surge the mental main ; 

And, foaming, bursts each barrier, leap the sky, 

And winged by reason, sped by fancy, fly 

O'er regions vast, unsearched by mortal gaze. 

Dive through each gloom, and scan the misty maze ; 

Then secretly retire into their place of rest, 

Within the safe retreat, the human breast. 

Thus every bosom howsoe'er untaught 

Has been the hiding place of deathless thought. 

That o'er the mind has sway'd a deep control. 

Then hid with hi the recess of the soul. 



16 THE WORKINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

As when high waves by tempests lash'd to foam 

Dash on the shore, then to their secret home 

Roll back within the unknown depths beneath, 

Silent and dark, only to find relief 

When by some deep and stirring cause again, 

They're brought to float upon the liquid plain ; 

So thoughts sink in the chambers of the soul, 

When others waking, brook the mind's control ; 

Waving adieu, they yield ; retire to rest ; 

Till like emotions swell the human breast, 

And touch the hidden spring ; when, forth they rise 

In visions rich, of coimtless forms and dyes, 

Float calmly o'er the mirror of the soul. 

And sparkle in the sunlight, strange and droll ; 

Or, billow-like, when harness'd to the storm, 

They dash along more turbulent in form ; 

Thoughts upon thoughts are pil'd to mountain height 

Or, driven into spray, they take their flight 

In forms unseen, to regions all unknown ; 

Yet, wing not these mysterious climes alone; 

But converse with their kind, and mix and blend 

In ways most strange, and manners without end. 

And as the dews, the fogs, the clouds, the spray 

Are rarefied by air, and borne away. 

Again condensed, or into snows congeal'd. 

Are scatter'd o'er the forest and the field; 

Thus drenching each in copious showers of rain, 

Or whitening hill, the valley and the plain ; 

So thoughts, difluse, condense, and in a shower, 

Refresh each drooping mental plant and flower ; 

Or, frozen by despair, like falling snow. 



A SOLILOQUY. IT 

They throw o'er nil a gavb of chilling woe. 

And as the dew and frost cover the plain, 

So thoughts, the soul, and vanish as the same. 

Strange are the workings of the human mind 
When by emotions tost, and when resign'd. 
When l)y some thought it once has been impressed 
And though for years it may in slumber rest. 
Some feeble act may waken all the same, 
And that awakenxl, set the soul on flame. 
Thus but one thought into existence sprung. 
Though centuries roll on — is as when begun — 
Laid up in the great universal mind. 
And can be call'd to act the part design VI. 



A SOLILOQUY. 



Strange ! how my thoughts chase wand'ring thoughts 

along, 
First roving o'er the scenes of gone by days.— 
The sunny fields of childhood and of youth, 
And picturing out the image of the past 
In glowing hues, piles Fancy's varied clouds 
To mountain height, some rich with golden tints. 
And others, dark and dismal, lowering storms ; 
And, chasing up the present, speed it l)y. 
And scan the uiisiy fictwe/ Hope their guide 
And escort now, they see her visions liright, 
B 1* 



18 A SOLILOQUY. 

Ten thousand joys and pleasures yet to come • 

And dream of future glories, future fame. 

But wherefore future fame, and brighter joys, 

Than yet has ever shown or smiled ? 

Is not this, life, as well as well life untried ? 

Is not the image of the past the same as now ? 

And what the future ? Reason, ansAver what — 

Aside, Vain Fancy, drop your giddy flight. 

Fold up your wings and from the field retire, 

While sounder sense bears sway. And what is life ? 

And these bright pictures ever fond to youth ? 

Fond, alas, but vain — castles built in air. 

How many youths have dream'd the self-same dream ! 

But, then, maturer years came on, and quench'd 

The fire of their ambition, — time flew on, 

Age came, and lastly, death, and left their dreams 

Unrealized, ungrounded all their hopes. 

And why not mine ? Am I unlike to them % 

If so, unlike in what ? Unlike in mind. 

In morals, energy and soul ? Alas ! 

If this be true, mine is the weaker part j 

For they as I have felt the rising soul 

Struggling in their breasts — felt the self-same glow 

Of intellect, the si)ring of deathless thought ; 

Yea, perhaps, far more — felt Fancy take its fliglit 

To loftier regions, and to brighter lands. 

And rich Imagination wider spread 

Her thought-plumed wmgs — felt Reason deeper dive 

And closer search dame Nature's wondrous laws. 

And felt within, as if their breathings fann'd 

Immortal fires, which by Ambition fed 



LINE8 WRITTEN TO A BROTHER. 19 

Would fliime to heaven and light a future world — 
Saw all their skies hung round with golden clouds, 
And dreamed they heard the shout of loud applause 
Like music rich ring in their ears. But now 
The trial comes ; they mingle with the world. 
Sad disappointment freezes up the soul, 
Blights each fond hope, smothers the rising flame, 
Hushes euphoneous sounds of dream'd-of praise, 
And wraps their skies a chaos in the tomb. 

Since lleeting, then, are human hopes and joys, 
And pestering Care or Trial life annoys, 
No more I'll strive to climb the steeps of fame. 
But goodness now, not greatness, is my aim. 



LINES WRITTEN TO A BROTHER FROM WHOM 
THE AUTHOR HAD LATELY BEEN SEVERED. 



O brother dear, what heartfelt, yearning ties 
Of deep affection — what emotions rise 
When I review the scenes when we were young. 
While yet our prattle fell from boyish tongues ; 
Or with our voices made the hills resound. 
That we might list to the returning sound. 
When we together slept, together rose. 
Together labor'd from the dawn to close 
Of each returning day, and there conversed 
On various themes, or each by turns rehearsYl 



20 LINES AVRITTEN TO A BROTHER. 

Some favored sentiment or lofty thought 

Expressed by gifted bards, which we had sought 

To train the voice and cultivate our minds, 

Whose powers oft-times broke loose from earth's confines, 

And soar'd aloft to bright and heavenly climes. 

Where world to world in endless glory shines ; 

Or, when we roved the fields in sportive play, 

Or, with our dog, poOr Rover, hast'd away 

To scout the Avoody thicket and the plain, 

Aitd catch with boyish joy the roving game ; 

Or, from the bank our hooks and lines we threw 

Into the dark, still stream, and there outdrew 

The bouncing trout with rare and eager joy ; 

Or, when our hands found not elsewhere employ, 

Throuojh distant Avoods we linVl the humminfi: bee. 

To find his luscious store, and then as free 

To rob the busy toiler of that store. 

And then with joy renew'd to hunt for more. 

And when mild Spring resum'd her gentle reign, 
Dissolving snows that whiten'd all the plain. 
With what unbounded joy we hail'd that day. 
As to the neighboring woods Ave made our Avay, 
Where willing hearts our ready hands employed 
To range the bush, where Ave oft life enjoyVl 
To fullest flow — to roam the forest free 
And gather sweets from each appropriate tree. 
And there, Avhen much engaged in busy toil. 
And both attending at the place Ave boil'd. 
We gave our boyish thoughts to the rude Avild, 
With in-born A'outhful eloauence. and smil'd 



LINES WRITTKX TO A BROTHER. 21 

When hooting owls returnM a loud reply, 

Then niock'd with ready tongues their, clamorous cry. 

And wlien deep night envelop VI earth in shade, 

A\"e, hibi-ing by the hght our fire bhize made, 

Summ'd up the ready profits of the trade, 

And joy'd to find tliey had so richly paid. 

And then, again, when time on fleetest wing. 
To smiling Sunnner cliasVl the months of Spring, 
We, side by side, toiPd in the verdant field, 
Reaping the rich productions Nature yields 
For man's support ; till finally we found 
Our labor with an ample harvest crown'd. 
In those bright, sunny days alike we farM 
AVhat one enjoy \1, the other also shar'd. 

But O ! what feelings spring without control — 
What thoughts roll back upon the pondering soul ! 
A^'hen I consider all these scenes are o'er. 
That we as hoys shall meet again no more 

O l)rother I you were ever to me dear, 

The accents of your voice I loved to hear. 

And ofttimes when in crowds, and when alone 

I've leap'd for joy to hear the noble tone 

From your kind lips, which spake that you were near, 

And can you tell me why, my brother dear ? 

Except that wheresoever we came or went. 

To me your counsel, and your aid was lent ; 

To you I look'd as one to be my shield; 

On ev'ry question, I to you appealVl ; 



22 LINES WRITTEN TO A BROTHER. 

Yoa wiitch'd my parting steps and my return — 

On whatsoe'er I did, yon look'd with deep concern 

And when pale Sickness sat upon my brow 

You watch'd l)eside my bed ; and, brother, how 

Rejoic'd in soul was I to see you there, 

Mov'd with such tender sympathy and care. 

And still they have an impress on the heart ; 

And, now, in life's pursuits, what ! must we part ( 

And, marching on, diverging courses take 

Wide severVl by the bustling world ; and, make 

The long adieu to those paternal laws, 

For which Ave laborVl in one common cause ? 

O yes ! deep-toned necessities now loudly call — 

Farewell then, happy scenes — ^farewell to all I 

Farewell, sweet childhood days ! and, youth, farewell I 

Come, you, maturer years let Fortune tell 

What the sure destiny of each must be ; 

Unroll the scroll of fate, that we may see 

Its secrets dark, in future now concealed. 

But, through the present, soon to be reveal'd. 

O, Manlius, since then we can not sway 

Time in the least, nor bid one moment stay. 

Let us improve those moments as they fly ; 

That, when at last we're call'd upon to die, 

We may look back, and happily exclaim, 

" Welcome, O Death, Ave have not liv'd in vain.'^ 

And may the record of the days then fled 

Be as a roll of honor for the dead. 

And may Affection's ties be with us still, 
Uniting heart with heart, though vale and liilL 



THE PLEASANT V.'IP^E. 23 

And lakes and rivers may our walks divide. 

And even seas and oceans heaving wide, 

Roll their boundless bulks between, still may we, 

The same unchanging, constant, brothers be. 

And though cold Death should sever, and the- grave 

Lock up that form, which none on earth could save, 

O may we be prepar'd, at last to meet, 

As brothers, at Jehovah's mercy seat ; 

And there forever join'd ; to sing 

The endless praise of Our Eternal King. 



THE PLEASANT WIFE. 



Amid the many scenes of varied life, 

There's none more pleasant than the pleasant wife ; 

Whose grateful heart is ever flowing o'er, 

With gushings fond and pure ; and at whose door 

Contentment smiles, as she doth, ever free; 

If such there are, a like one be for me. 

For, in my many wand'rings here and there, 

I've seen, the tidy, sluttish, homely, fair ; 

The brawling, still, the modest and the bold. 

The stupid, and the bright, the full whole soul'd, 

Half soul'd, and those with souls so very small 

You could not say they had a soul at all. 

Heard the light step ; and, then the one let fall. 

That rang with double echoes through the hall — 

The awkward, ill-made dress — locks illy strown, 



24 THE PLEASANT WIFE. 

That seldom scrap VI acquaintance with the comb, 

Or else arranged in such a curious taste, 

They, like herself, seemed ever out of place. 

And then a fault IVe seen in other girls, 

A head disordered with unnumber'd curls, . 

And then the jetty black, or, raven light, 

Around a smiling tace, arranged just right ; 

So that had Fancy re-arranged the fair, 

Her skillful lingers ne'er would moved a hair. 

Each one of these is index to the soul ; 

Their kitchens, parlors, future homes unfold. 

The one if enter'd, dark confusions rise. 

And pour a thousand discords in our eyes ; 

Mops, brooms and rags are scattered here and there, 

And dirty faces, with a youthful stare. 

Which scamps, have hammers, tongs, bowls or more, 

Which with themselves, they tumble o'er the floor ; 

Perhaps, a chair or two are on the table. 

And they, the doll are rocking in the ladle. 

And if a well-known voice, distinct and clear. 

Says, "Can't you have better order here, my dear?" 

Thunder from her mouth and lightning from her eye 

In shapenVl accents give a keen reply : 

"Mind your own concerns — I wish that these young 

brats 
Could be with you, misplacing this and that — 
Turning topsy-turvy whatsoe'er they reach ; 
And then, see how much longer you would preach 
About good order ; fault-finding, grumbling man, 
A goddess could not please you — would, my land I 



THE PLEASANT WIFE. 25 

You had ,><()ino to doiil with — then see you sputter round, 
But I guess they'd learn you, to keep your ground." 
O let us leave — free me from such a lot, 
If Fortune chance to give ; but, may she not. 

Now, let us view the other home ; else Avhere, 

Whose mistress was the maid with neat comb'd hair, 

Whose step was light and bounding, and whose eye 

Look'd forth keen sprightliness and melody. 

Behold it resting in the vale below, 

Oe'ertopp'd with trees ; itself, as white as snow — 

Kap at the door — the same light step draws near, 

And one bright face now bids you welcome here. 

Which face bespeaks, within, a noble soul 

And feast the eye untiring to behold. 

But, look about, in every nook and place — 

See, everything arranged in perfect taste. 

And Prudence rules, dispelling sluttish Waste. 

Perhaps, a table with a cloth of snow, 

And knives and dishes of inviting glow, 

Are now preparing for a coming meal. 

And while they are, a few short glances steal 

From out the pantry through the open door, 

See, all is neatness here — yea, more. 

Look ! here's a shelf with such a rich supply 

That sure might feast the mouth as Avell as eye, 

And in the one, if you 're one whit like me, 

Would cause the glands about to water free. 

But, linger not too long that wishful look. 

Lest you betray suspicions from the cook ; 

But mark her, as she glides ])eforc your eyes, 



26 O LIBERTY, WHY SLUMBER LONG? 

Like some fair spirit from the upper skies, 
Whate'er her fingers chance to touch, meanwhile, 
Looks up rejoic'cl, and seems to breathe a smile. 
And one breaks forth in rapturous strains of glee. 
I mean that neat-clad child, gay, wild and free, 
Blooming in loveliness, a matchless prize, 
With much of heaven sparkling in its eyes ; 
And, as you stoop to snatch a nectar'd kiss. 
Your heart exclaims, ' ^ What a fair home is this ! " 
What mighty contrasts stretch themselves between 
The one before us and the one just seen. 

Young ladies, then, we say to you, " Beware ! 
A kindred contrast looks from out your hair," 
' ' Right here the seeds of wheat and tares are sown, 
Pluck out the tares or they will soon be grown."' 

Nor think, young gents, '* It rests with these alone. 
Wrong acts from you may turn a heart to stone, 
And you may bid a budding heart to bloom 
Or quench a spirit's rosy morn in gloom — 
Can make a smiling field a dreary place. 
Or plant a garden in a desert waste. 



O LIBERTY, WHY SLUMBER LONG ? 



O sacred Liberty ! why longer wear 

Those galling chains which proud aspirants dare 

To rivet on ? Why not, with strength arise, 



O LIBERTY, WHY SLUMBEK LONG ^ 2T 

Thy undivided strength, Avhicli deeply lies 

III every breast ; and doth thy foes despise ? 

Thy hated fetters burst, and to the skies 

Th}^ banners wave o'er continent and sea, 

This motto bearing forth, '' I will be free ? " 

And by thy giant arm, with matchless power, 

Bid tyrants tremble, and the bigot cower. 

Lift high the gleaming steel, and in its fall, 

Kings in their blood shall lie, and princes call 

For mercy at thy hand. But stop not here — 

Earth owns thee her's — to human hearts more dear 

Than all that wealth can bring, or, famed renown. 

The power of Emp'rors, thrones and glittering crowns 

Shall fall in ruins when thou dost appear. 

Injustice arm'd, proclaiming in each ear 

The injured rights of man. Before th}^ might 

Then tyranny shall fly, as shades of night 

Before the orb of day ; but not again, 

As dark, deep night to hold its dreary reign ; 

But broken links of shackles and of chains 

Shall scatter 'd lie as dews upon the plains ; 

They too as morning dews to pass away 

When shines the glorious sun of Freedom's day. 

Bear then the signal forth, rouse long crush'd right, 
And in its cause press onward to the fight ; 
Free the oppressed, break ev^ery slaver's band. 
Take off each yoke, and free each fetter'd hand ; 
Press to the glorious cause — right onward — till 
All shall be free — to think, and act, and will. 



28 THE YOUNG CONSUMPTIVE'S PRAYER. 



THE YOUNG CONSUMPTIVE'S PRAYER. 



O Monster ! great destroyer of mankind ! 

Thou Victor robed in death ! can I resign 

My vital life to thee ? Thy will obey, 

And for thy sake dissolve this form to clay ? 

Is there no power can wrest me from thy grasp ? 

Relieve my heart from all thy all- withering clasp ? 

Ah me I If there's a power on earth can save, 

Or one resort, except the silent grave, 

On thee I call ; let not this youthful breath 

So soon be quench'd in the dark vault of death ; 

Let not this flame of life thus die away 

And change to darkest night this living day ; 

But bid me live and life's rich blessings share. 

Till age shall blanch these locks and me prepare 

A fitted subject for that common end. 

Where kings and vassals meet, and mix, and blend, 

And blending, mingle with the common earth, 

What life held up far severVl in their birth ; 

Some, heirs to untold wealth, and powers and thrones, 

Others to want, and pain, and fleshless bones ; 

But prayers are vain ; ere Spring shall clothe the trees 

In verdant robes, perhaps I rest with these. 

Farewell then Earth, and all thy much-loved bloom, 
Soon I must leave thoe for the silent tomb. 



LIFE. 29 



LIFE 



Life is a checkered scene and tilled with snares ; 

To-day, perhaps, it leads through flow'ry paths, 

To-morrow, through a desert dark with gloom. 

Ever and anon prosperity lights up 

Our happy way, and, arching overhead. 

The azure blue is hung with golden clouds, 

And the bright diadems of hope look out 

From their fair heavenly homes, and smile; and love. 

Sweet solace, weeps, but tears of joy, 

And all seems wrapped in pleasure's well wrought garb, 

To shape such visions as might bless the soul. 

But soon dark, threatening clouds arise and hang 

About their sable forms, quench hope's bright stars 

Amid the gath'ring gloom of thickest night, — 

Wild tempests howling, sweep o'er storm-wrecked skies, 

And on each angry cloud we read, ' ' Despair ! " 

Each gale comes laden with a deeper woe. 

And disappointments often sigh between ; 

Bright gleams the ire of our antagonists. 

About as fierce chained lio^htnins^s 'mid the storm — 

Opposing voices thunder in our ears. 

And dread tornadoes whirl'd by furious care. 

Now threatening ruin, level every joy. 

But soon the storm-cloud ))ursts upon our head, 



30 LIFE. 

And spends its wrath in gales of doubts and fears ; 
Then once again conies in the light of heaven — 
The tempest dies away, and breezes soft, 
Whispering peace and hope, fan our fever'd brows, 
And wake along our path the drooping flowers 
Of life's long cherish tl joys. PleasVl, these look up 
And welcome our approach. But next there comes 
A frost — nips those invigorated plants, 
Each tiny bud of hope, ere scarce revived. 
And leaves our held of promise, once so fair 
(All rob'd in garbs of living green, made soft 
By dews and showers), a dark and dreary scene; 
Quenches ambition's noblest zeal, and each 
Fair vision blights in bud and bloom. 

And thus is life, forever changing, till. 

The last sad change ; now borne by prosperous winds, 

O'er mirror d seas unrippl'd by the waves. 

Reflecting heaven as tranquil o'er our heads ; 

Then turns, and rolls the billows of our seas 

To mountain height ; and from the darken'd West 

Surges the wind, bearing the muttering storm 

In threatening aspect, soon to burst its wrath 

Upon our feeble barque. When, all at once. 

Death's fearful Avhirlpool opens underneath. 

And down we sink, engult'd within the tomb. 



A VISIT TO THE SCENES OF CHILDHOOD. 31 



LINES WRITTEN ON A VISIT TO THE SCENES 
OF CHILDHOOD. 



I came to the scenes of my cliildliood once more, 
The hills and the vales I familiarly knew, 

But so changed were their looks they seem'd not the same. 
For years had fled by since the picture I drew. 

What ! changed did I say '{ O yes ! so are we ! 

And drifted away from the old cherish'd line ; 
From the moorings of boyhood borne out to sea, 

Unconsciously borne on the billows of time. 

The bay of my youth I shall cruise in no more ; 
On that lovely shore never more will I gaze — ■ 

With me all those pleasures and raptures are o'er. 
Way out on the ocean of life's latter days. 

Standing out on life's sea, ' ' O Avhere shall we land 
Or anchor ? '' intrusively steals on the mind ; 

By the breath of God's spirit graciously fann'd 
May we regions of bliss, eternal bliss find. 



32 FASHION AND HEALTH. 



FASHION AND HEALTH. 



As Fashion one day in her gay, gaudy chair 

Sat busily twisting and curling her hair, 

A mirror, reflecting each curl and each grace, 

Returned to herself her pale, wanned face; 

Her delicate fingers, encircled with rings. 

And jewels and ribbons and many line things 

Adorned her fair person, while down by her side 

Hung a long silken skirt and flowing as wide ; 

On her delicate foot, a tisfht-fitted shoe. 

Neither soiled by the dust, nor dampened with dew ; 

Her small, rounded nostrils, that some would call faii\ 

Showed scarcely, if ever, she had snuflfed the free air ; 

Her snug-girted w\aist and tightly-stayed form 

Would have shown (if nature had made) she was born 

Not to breathe the wikl gale, or brave the rude storm. 

But ever, anon if she chanced to sigh, 

Stays, hooks, or buttons, or something must fly ; 

And one, seeing these, and her cheeks daubed and dyed. 

Would quickly have known that her god was her pride. 

While she was thus sitting, admiring her skill 
To 'range her fair tresses to suit her vain will, 
Plump, brave, ruddy Health, with her cheeks all in bloom. 
In her free, laughing way, bounced into the room. 
Vain Fashion looked up and scornfully smiled ; 



FASHION AND HEALTH. 33 

Then Health thus exclaimed, in a voice shrill and wild, 
"Take oH' these vain tixings, your frail form unbind. 
And do not be longer thus vainly contined. 
This painting the cheeks and dressing the hau-, 
And girting the waist to make slender and spare, 
And keeping indoors, never breathing fresh air, 
To make yourself weakly, frail, pallid and fair, 
Till one could scarce touch, if desiring to do, 
Those locks that dame Nature has given to you. 
Without soiling his fingers or greasing their tips. 
Or kiss your tair cheeks without blistering his lips; 
Or place his fond arm 'round your light-moulded form, 
Without knowing that stays was all that adorned, — 
Is shameful, disgusting, a sin in extreme. 
Think admirers you gain ? 'T is all a vain dream ; 
Throw ofl* these death bonds and breathe the fresh air, 
And the rose on your cheeks will blossom more fair 
Than carmine can paint, or art can devise. 
Consider, Miss Fashion, reflect and be wise." 

While Health was thus speaking, Miss Fashion, in ire. 
Looked indignant, and sat with eyes flashing fire ; 
Now rose from her chair, with a dark-lowering mien. 
Exclaimed ''Vile presumption ! think you I'm so green ? " 
And, foamino^ with ras^e, seized Health with her hands 
And swayed her strong form, as waves do the sands ; 
And it seemed for awhile, to Fashion's vain will. 
That Health must succumb and forever keep still. 
And oftentimes thus, when falsehoods assail. 
We seem to be vanquished, but "truth will prevail." 
So Health, when False Fashion had spent all her strength, 
C 



34: EVENING MEDITATION. 

Collected her powers, rose up and, ut length. 
Seized her rival in hand and bowed her frail form, 
Like a pale, sickly plant is bowed by the storm ; 
But hooks bursting off" and stays giving way. 
Miss Fashion cried out, "Hold on, Miss ! fair play !" 
But Health, heeding not, she began to implore. 
As hooks, stays and bracelets flew over the floor. 
At this scene of relief. Health joyfully smiled. 
And here left proud Fashion for once a free child. 



EVENING MEDITATION. 



Hail, gentle hours of inspiration sweet. 
When earth, within the arms of downy sleep. 
Is lulled to rest, and night's profoundest shade 
Rests on the hill, the forest and the glade ; 
When eve has stretched her star-bespangled blue, 
And, clothed in meekness, weeps her crystal dew ; 
When angels, stooping from the courts above, 
Whisper in every breeze accents of love. 
What thoughts, ennobling, rise within the breast, 
Diffusing light, that leave a sweet impress 
At such an hour, when heaven and silent earth 
Exhale a thousand inspirations forth. 
That drop into the long desiring heart 
A balm that other scenes can ne'er impart. 
Life is hushed ; profoundest silence reigns, 
Sits on the hills and hovers o'er the plains. 



EVENING MEDITATION. 35 

And gentle luirniony, with boly tie, 

Folds in her arms the earth, the air, the sky. 

Yon fleeting cloud, like some fair spirit, seems 

Intently hovering o'er, and gazing on the scene ; 

And yon pale star beholds the embrace meanwhile, 

And from above waves down a lingering smile. 

The gilded nortli, the soutli, the east, the west 

Are in a robe of lofty grandeur dressed ; 

In field and forest, amply spread abroad. 

We read, "Behold the workmanship of God ! " 

Aurora borealis lights the sky 

And whispers, " Love ! wonder ! beauty ! mystery ! ' 

Yon galaxy, all paved with dazzling sans, 

Where worlds with worlds seem clustered into one. 

And that a w^reath, hung 'round the brow of Time 

(Who, in tlie circling heavens, rides sublime), 

Has such undying, quenchless splendors strown. 

That shame bright Beauty, even, on her throne. 

While heaven displays her grandeur from above. 
Wide earth lies slumb'ring in the lap of love. 

O, if there's aught can swell the human soul. 
Burst th' sordid chain, and volumes rich unroll, 
'Tis nature, silent nature, like as now. 
In her nocturnal robe, and on her brow 
The coronet of worlds ; and if, to me. 
There's aught can bring true pleasure, 'tis to see 
God's impress stamped upon each object 'round, 
When busy life is hushed iii sleep profound. 



36 EVENING MEDITATION. 

The ocean, lashed by tempest into foam ; 

The fierce, chained lightnings, from their fiery throne. 

In anger gleaming forth with dazzling forms ; 

The muttering thunder, answering from the storm ; 

Niagara, rushing in her fearful ire ; 

And ^tna, launching forth her rocks of fire, — 

Each may fill the soul with dread surprise, 

And with amazement feast the gazing eyes ; 

Roll up the stagnant waters of the soul 

To view, with lofty fear, and converse hold 

With awful nature's God, and wonder strange 

Thrills our full hearts and creeps along our veins ; 

But scenes like these^ difi'used with God's own love, 

When Peace celestial hovers from above, 

Stir up emotions holier in the soul. 

And strike a finer cord ; without control, 

Call inspiration's noblest feelings forth, 

That mix and sweetly blend with heaven and earth. 

Wake up that principle divine within. 

That tells us what we truly are, akin 

To that great Power who paints the rainbow's hue, 

Robes earth in green, and studs the azure blue. 

There is a voice of charms, though never heard, 
A sight, though never seen, is still endear'd ; 
That voice is God, now whispering in the heart ; 
That sight, his love, known to the nobler part, 
Wfiich brighter glows at the still hour of night. 
Bathes our immortal nature in its light. 
And points the way to heaven. Ye vain and proud, 
Who love the world, and who, in laughter loud 



EVENING MEDITATION. 37 

Seek merrinient ; who the broad ch-cle till 

Of fickle Pk^asLire's dizzy round, whose will 

Is bent on revelry and factious mirth ; 

Ye who at mammon bow, and deem his worth 

The only source of joy ! O come and view! 

And taste a sweeter pleasure, far, than you 

Have e'er before. Roll back the misty cloud 

That long has veil'd your skies as in a shroud, 

And let the light break in — dispel the gloom, 

And, rosy-like, bid pure Devotion bloom. 

Let Truth's fair diamond brightened, catch the tire, 

And glowing, soul, and heart, and mind inspire ; 

And as an eagle bound, rending each tie, 

Bid thought break loose and soar into the slvy. 

O ye, who often quaff the sparkling bowl. 
Which drains your very vitals out — O hold ! 
Here is a sweeter draught than wine can give ; 
Nor is Death written here, but "Drink and live." 
This very silence, so sublimely still, 
(If rightly view'd,) may your own spirits till 
With purer, holier, sweeter joys within, 
Than you can tind in the wide walks of sin. 
The sparkling wave may feast a greedy maw. 
By shameful lust depriv'd of nature's law ; 
The midnight feast may gratify a taste. 
Long since abandon'd to a worse than waste. 
But here the crystal stream of life flows by 
From a celestial source — from God on high ; 
And those who drink, shall drink of bliss refin'd, 
And those who bathe shall purify the mind. 



38 THE FORGED WILL. 



Here, too, is food celestial for the soul. 
Made free to all and unexchanged for gold. 



Then why not come at such an holy hour, 
When sweet enchantment lends her gentle power. 
Come forth and learn when evenins: walks abroad 
To drink draughts from nature's fount — from God ? 



THE FORGED AVILL. — A SOLILOQUY. 

Written on an occurrenne which took place in the State of Penn- 
sylvania about the year 1845, the history of which is as follows : A 
man of wealth died, leaving two sons and one daughter, which 
daughter had married against his wishes ; and in order to disinherit 
her had left a will transferring his property equally to his two sons. 
The eldest son seized and destroyed his father's will, and forged 
another, conveying all of the property to himself, save a few worth- 
less articles. This so enraged the second son that he resolved to kill 
his brother for revenge ; and knowing that one moonlight night he 
was to pass on an unfrequented path through a dense hemlock wood, 
he here watched for, and killed him, and afterward, near this same 
spot, on the same night, killed himself. The poem makes him 
soliloquising after the murder and before the suicide. 

At length this desperate fratricide is done, 

And added to the catalogue of crimes 

One murder more. And one more voice in avoc 

And writhing anguish, crying loud. 

Rides through the liery gulf of flaming hell. 

Roll on, thou voice of my curs'd brother's blood. 

Thy groans are fondest music in my ear. 



THE FORGED WILL. 39 

And thy miseries, O lost spirit, are my joys. 

Thou woiildst have made me wretched here on earth, 

Now I have thee, in death, eternal death; 

Thanks to high heaven that I am thus aveng'd. 

And the cold ashes of my father, for this wrong. 

This liendish wrong, to thus with villain's hands 

To seize and wantonly destroy the Will 

His own pale, trembling, death-struck hands had seal'd, 

And then to write another, saying, all 

To him, and none to me, save a poor mule ; 

O monster-hearted villain, forging lies I 

Where are your false-got riches now ? Sold are 

Your lands to buy you an inheritance more fit 

In Pandemonium, where like monsters dwell. 

There liated^ moan, and endless tortures rack thee 

In heirs forged chains for forgery on earth. 

Ah, ghid am I to witness this day's deeds. 
Though they to-morrow punish me with death ; 
For death I would prefer by far than see 
Him freely rev'ling in his ill-got gains, 
And tickling at his cunning in deceit. 

sought revenge, how sweet a thing thou art ! 

1 lick my brother's blood from thy right hand. 
Ye orloaminof hemlock shades wave o'er his corse. 
And form his only pall , and ye wild winds. 
Sweep through these boughs and howl his requiem ; 
And ye wide heavens, hide with these your face. 
Nor weep one crystal tear — nor I. Worms feed 
Upon his flesh, and maggots glut, and each 
By-passing breeze bear off the baneful stench. 



40 THE FORGED WILL. 

But, 1(^ I wluit misty form beams on the sight, 

Just in the risino^ moonlio^ht Heaminsf ? 
Some ghostly spirit haunts these scenes to-night ; 

But let me see ! Is not this dreamins^ ^ 
Oh no I too real all things, fiir, appear — 

These boughs above me, and the shades below, 
And man^^ deep convictions rising here. 

With Reason, tre])le-voiced, all answer, ''No ! " 

But see ! it nears me — swoons away my soul. 

And sinks within me this my beating heart ; 
Wild terrors drink my blood, how strange and droll, 

Thou demon of the night, depart, depart ! 
Why come you here at this deep, solemn hour, 

Leagu'd with the dead to (with a secret power) 
Dissolve in sorrow my revengeful will ! 

O my dead brother, would that you were living still ! 

Some icy hand grasps my warm heart and wrings, 

And untold agony is dripping down. 
And tortures all unseen pierce me with stings. 

And probe anew to deeper depths that wound 
Received when sister flung herself away, 

(Against our will) upon that worthless man. 
We writh'd in anguish then — woe to that day ! 

What awful ruins those false pledges span ^ 

Ye soul-consuming torments, O withhold ! 

Are these the pleasures bought with paltry gold ? 
Oh ! dear the purchase — bitter is the drug ! 

Would that I were dead, and that my grave was dug. 



THE FORGED WILL. 41 

But see ! tluit ghostly vision haunts me still — 

Nears me ^ gliding to and fro, as if to fill 

My soul with creeping terrors, from her eyes, 

That breathe on me reproach and wild surprise. 

O what departed spirit canst thou be ( 

My mother ? Oh my mother ! It is she I 

'Tis she who taught my youthful tongue to speak. 

And watchxl my strength'ning steps, week after week, 

When this dead brother and myself were young. 

And told our guileless tales with artless tongues. 

Now niem'ry like an ocean o'er my mind. 

Comes surofiniT on, bearino^ from far behind, 

The scenes of other days, when often he 

Strok'd these, then boyish cheeks, and smiled to see 

Me smile. Our mother smiled a mother's love. 

Raised her sainted eyes, and from above 

Invoked a blessing on her prattling boys ; 

Then turned, calFd us her pride, her hopes, her joys, 

Bent on Sayte the fullness of a mother's eye. 

While her pure breast was hoven by a sigh. 

Warmly embraced us, kissed us o'er and o'er, 

And bade us love each other more and more. 

That very thought now steeps my soul in grief ; 

Oh earth ! O heaven I Is there no relief ? 

P-^ar mother, we have broke thy tender will ; 
Was mine the fault ? Say, how could I fulfill 
Where such ingratitude to me Avas shown ? 
By sister, sham'd, by brother, stripp'd of home ! 
Alas 'tis done ! My wrath the fault doth own, 



42 FIFTY YEARS OLD. 

For which his spirit hath forever flo\\ n — 
Sent by these hands with icy death to grasp, 
Those hands, that mine so oft have fondly clasp'd. 
Those lips in everlasting slumber seal'd, 
That have to me so oft his will reveal'd. 

What have I done ? O what an awful deed I 

Here — tear my heart's strings loose and let them bleed, 

And while they pour this vital life away, 

Let me hear you, mother, whispering say, 

" I do forgive,'' and it is all I crave — 

How long to woe shall I remain a slave ? 

What ! fled ! No word of comfort did she give I 

I cannot die, and yet I cannot live ; 

The earth is sick of me, and I of earth. 

Both sorrowing that she ever gave me birth. 

I cannot bear even this Lunar light — 

O Death ! seal up my eyes in endless night. 



FIFTY YEARS OLD. 



Full fifty years their ample course has run. 
Since I the journey ot this life begun ; 
Amid its jostling waves by winds IVe whirPd 
And mix'd and mingl'd with a bustling world; 
And strange and curious is the checkered scene 
That now comes up from life's departed dream. 



FIFTY YEARS OLD. 4S 

J see me now a Doy, on that far shore 

Of youthful days, that can be mme no more ; 

By grand and rustic scenes his mind is lir'd, 

And his whole soul seemed wrought as if inspir'd ; 

And while he toils from early dawn till night 

O how his soul doth long for higher light, 

And thirsts for knowledge, knowledge which he thought 

Would raise him to. the higher plane he sought; 

But Avhen that long'd for knowledge came, 

'Twas but to prove that knowledge weak and vain. 

For what is human learning, art or skill. 

That it the lono^ins: of the soul should fill. 

This deathless soul, by the Eternal given, 

With hungrying for the immortal bread of heaven i 

So oft this youth, while drinking at the well 

Of human lore, — each draught seemed but to swell 

The cravings of his breast, with yearnings new, 

For the sublime, the beautiful and true ; 

Then he beheld 'twas but from the Most High 

He could be fed, or draw the wish'd supply. 

To drink the waters of eternal truth, and know 

That for himself they doth forever flow. 

While in communion with that God unseen 

Who stills the seas and carpets earth in green. 

All human pomp and show he hated then. 
And lov'd seclusion from the walks of men. 
That he might feel within the great God Power, 
And be refreshed by grace in holy hour. 
As latent dews the drooping plants revive, 
So grace the human soul doth keep alive. 



44 FIFTY YEARS OLD. 

His earthly hopes once holy, pare and high, 

Now settled down and darkness veiFd his sky, 

That living form he over all held dear. 

Then faithless prov'd and scourged him with despair, 

And when should brightest shine his life-fed light, 

Forebodino^ srlooms arose, and starless nio:ht. 

Moaning with dreary Avinds. What could he then 

But close his eyes to life and look beyond ? 

Thus out of S3nnpathy with every other youth, 

No light was his except the light of truth ; 

And this he courted, come from where it might, 

And of all youthful pleasures lost the sight ; 

Yet in this light he cherish VI hopes to find 

A faithful being of a virtuous mind, 

AYhose worth should heal the wound his bosom bore, 

And bless his future days forevermore. 

And this he did ; for now while life doth flow, 

A heart beats sympathy with his, to know 

The measure of his worldly joy and woe. 

How many disappointments cross the way. 

And hopes once bright seem perish'd now for aye. 

And care on care rear up their summits high, 

Like thunder clouds press'd up against the sky ; 

Yet all along the way I pond'ring find 

A work mysterious by a hand divine ; 

And far be3^ond the storm-built cloud and spray 

There seems to break the light of cloudless day. 

O for a light to shine into the soul 

From the Eternal's throne, to there behold 



FIFTY YEARS OLD. 45 

The fullness of that store that saints decry. 
Beheld by Faith's and Inspiration's eye. 

That picture thrown on canvas deep within, 
Doth seem to me would drive away all sin — 
Would light devotion with her holiest glow, 
And be an emblem true of heaven below. 
Yet this, so much desired to be possess'd. 
May be a real thing in every breast ; 
And each may be directed in the way — 
Instructed, fed and strengthen'd day by day, 
May feel within promptings of will divine — 
That image, there, on hidden pages shine. 
Those soul-bound pages, whose true worth outweigh 
All transitory things of vain display. 

O God, instruct me, on these pages write. 
Thy will immutable, in lines of light ; 
By their instructions may my heart improve 
And breathing in the atmosphere of love, 
Born all anew, becoming more like thee, 
Savior Divine, thou son of Deity, 
Till mortal-like I pass from earth away. 
To bask within the light of endless day. 

There, feeding on the food of the Sublime, 
And water'd by the dews of the Divine, 
May this soul-bud (now body-couch 'd) arise 
To bloom in fullest beauty in the skies ; 
And by its heaven-l)orii petals, there drink in 
Thy boundless blessings, unalloyed with sin. 



46 HOW WEAK AND FRAIL IS MAN. 

Thus fed and strengthened by thy perfect law. 
May I still nearer to perfection draw, 
And branching out with never-failing power, 
And of eternal youth, bearing the flower, 
Taste of those heavenly pleasures yet to be 
And grow, yet unmatured into Eternity. 



HOW WEAK AND FRAIL IS MAN, 



See, you, yon ocean on its rock-built shore. 
How wave on wave impels the wave before, 
And, far away, e'en to the cloud-capp'd skies, 
Bursting to view, new surges sink and rise, 
Come rolling on till with a splash and groan 
They beat the shore and disappear in foam ? 
Such has Creation been from Time's hrst dawn, 
Deep, grand, and boundless, ever rolling on. 

Go to Niagara's verge, and there explore 
Its mist-veiled front, and listen to its roar ! 
View here a power, mysterious and sublime, 
That has endured and will endure with time; 
Its awful voice and rainbow Avreathen brow. 
Then spoke of lofty Nature's God, as now ; 
Then from this height step to the evening sky, 
See silent beauties with the loud-voiced vie, 
Here worlds unnumbered in their orbits roll. 
Guided by him who reigns without control : 



now WEAK AND FRAIL IS MAN. 47 

Systems to systems joined with suns and spheres, 

Here shine and move, and shall for countless years, 

In harmony sublime, eternal, vast, 

.Vnd with eternity itself shall last. 

O works mysterious, stretched through space abroad, 

How do you tell the glory of your God ! 

Turn thou. O man, who dijoms himself quite great, 

To think, devise, invent and regulate. 

And execute the laws that govern state. 

And in your boasting think you govern fate, 

View the eternal laws of the Supreme, 

Which move mysterious Nature's vast machine, 

And all thy power seen in this higher light. 

Now sink to nothingness within thy sight. 

O what is Art, with all its boasted show. 

When thus compared with Nature's work below. 

And when to higher, loftier scenes we rise, 

And touch the star-decked keys that tune the skies, 

There bursts a strain so deep, sublimely grand. 

Earth shrinks from sight, and what becomes of man i 

Wrapp'd up in insignificance from view. 

As in the ocean sinks a (h'op of dew. 

The splendid palace and the lofty dome 

Shall crumble into dust. Great Thebes and Rome, 

And mighty Carthage, once the boast of men. 

Lie heaped in ruins ! — they have found their end. 

And Desolation hovers o'er the plaii 

Where once they held an undisputed reign. 

And where is Troy, once mighty and renown'd, 



48 HOW WEAK AND FRAIL IS MAN. 

By walls surrounded and with temples erown'd ? 

From whose proud gates those mighty warriors came 

To whom great Homer sang undying fame ( 

As havinof ofod-like streno^th to lifi^htly bear 

Sueh ponderous arms as Hercules might wear, 

And on those fields of strife such honor won, 

As might have fitted Priam's god like son ? 

In proud magnificence she stood Avith sway, 

The world then owned and hastened to obey ; 

But now her ashes sleep amid decay, 

Unknown the place she stood, unmarked the spot, 

Her very situation is forgot. 

Thus towerino^ cities crumble into dust. 

And men, their builders, mid these ashes rust, 

Without the smallest thing or voice to say, 

" Here sleep in death the mighty of their day ; " 

Both they and all their works have found a close — 

All living soon must sleep in death's repose. 

O then boast not, vain mortals, of your power ; 
God's works are endless, yours, of but an hour ; 
His is ubiquitory and supreme. 
Yours, O how small ! and fleeting as a dream. 
Talk not of a boasted will and strenth of mind. 
You are but weakness, frailty, blundering, blind ; 
O, then, consider well, and ever be 
Just what you are — a bubble on the sea. 



ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 49 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF xV YOUNG 

LADY, 

WHO VERY SUDDENLY DIED AT THE SEMINARY AVHICH 
THE AUTHOR WAS AT THAT TIME ATTENDING. 

Hark ! borne upon the passing breeze, I hear 
The moan of parents, and of friends most dear. 
For one whom sudden death has snatched away. 
And mixed vitality with crumbling clay. 
Alarming sound ! That fatal voice of woe 
Whispers in accents dread and fearful low, 
'' Life is uncertain even when most sure ; 
In neither youth nor age you rest secure. 
Though highest hopes to-day your bosom warm. 
And Health and Beauty, these, your brows adorn. 
Death's cold, untimely frost may blight their bloom. 
The morrow, find you mould'ring in the toml).'* 

Not unaspiring were the hopes of her 
Whom Death has lately bid our hands inter ; 
She was a father's pride, a mother's care — 
For her most earnest friends made earnest prayer ; 
Her's was a sister's love, endeared and kind ; 
That sister sought with her to culture mind. 
And side by side they climb'd the rugged steep, 
Where learned science sits profound and deep ; 
Upon her cheek sat beauty's glowing smile. 
And sound intelligence as bright meanwhile 
D 3 



50 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 

Was marked in every feature of her face, 
And in each movement, modesty and grace, 
And all that promised fair for future fame 
Was in her soul, and stamped upon her name. 

Her friends were many, her approvers more ; 
Where e'er she walked, a garb of honor wore ; 
No slanderer's hand had dared that garb to soil, 
Or, with a bolder grasp, to rend and spoil ; 
In every rank alike her virtue shone. 
And Charity and Wisdom were her own. 

In early youth she sought the Savior's cause, 
And walked within its light and by its laws. 
Seeking, and drinking in the glory of her God, 
To scatter love, and peace, and truth abroad, 
Till Death was sent, a message from above. 
To bid her rise and share a heaven of love. 



THE WORKS OF NATURE. 51 



HOW SUBLIME TO CONTEMPLATE THE 
WORKS OF NATURE. 



O how sublime on mental wings to rise, 

And view the grandeur of the azure skies ; 

Where countless worlds in seas of glory roll, 

On which to feed the ever pond'ring soul, . 

AVhose thought-plum'd wings fan the ethereal sky, 

While angels feeling sympathy reply, 

And soaring upward, onward, onward still. 

Fancy makes swift, assisted by the will. 

Thus plumed in majesty of sober thought, 

A precious boon unsold, alike unbought, 

Dives deeper into mysteries of our God, 

Grasps at creation amply spread abroad. 

Beholds unnumbered suns in dazzling brightness shine, 

Forever wondrous, and undimmed by time ; 

While round the sources of eternal day. 

Worlds without end hold their resistless way, 

Rolling in yon ethereal space above. 

Their ponderous orbs, in unison and love. 

And 'round these worlds that circumvolve their suns. 

As many satellites unceasing run ; 

Still traversing the star-bespangled blue, 

Searches Creation fiir beyond the view. 

From world to world and sun to sun it flies. 

Nor stoops it flight, but higher still to rise, 



52 THE WORKS OF NATURE. 

The farther off, the iio])ler scenes behold, 

And soaring on, new mysteries unfold, 

Sees lovelier worlds, and still more dazzling suns^ 

Where Death treads not and sin hath never eonie. 

And heavenly beings here hath ever trod 

In holy union with the laws of God ; 

Still pushing on, the mighty sphere ascends. 

Where sits the Father, — all his works attend, 

And round this seat of his eternal throne, 

(Mightier far within itself alone 

Than all the rest of Nature's works as one, 

Worlds, satellites, and huge revolving suns,) 

These complicated systems hold their course, 

And this, their center, and eternal source, 

To which all nature, through her various laws, 

Hold all these works in one stupendous cause. 

Incomprehensible ! Boundless ! And Supreme ! 
How vain we strive to comprehend the scene I 
And each attempt of mind, such to descry. 
Can no more reach its glories seated high, 
Than the pale lamp, that flits and dies away, 
Can vie with the eternal source of day ; 
O'erwhelmed it falls, confounded from the skies, 
It falls, but with redoubled strength to rise. 



SCENES OF DESPAIR. 53 



SCENES OF DESPAIR. 



O how horrible and dark is deep Despair ! 
How it doth gloom the heart, the vitals tear ; 
How painful to behold that awful frown 
That casts dejection, gloom and terror 'round, 
That hides from view the sparks of hope divine. 
Leaves darkness boundless as the sea of time ; 
Yes, sad and dismal is that scene where years 
Bring naught but melancholy sighs and tears ; 
Where victims, robbed of joy, shattered and shorn, 
Are left alone, cast down, to weep and mourn ; 
How dark the scene where every smile of mirth 
Have fled a living soul that dwells on earth ! 

Wretched his lot, who in his youthful days, 
Saw hope's effulgent flame before him blaze, 
That promised joy to come in future years. 
When, lo I he grasped with neither doubts nor fears. 
And thoughtless gave his passion for relief. 
Till disappointment sealed his fate in grief. 
And sorrow heaped on him a load of care. 
And bowed his youthful head to sad despair, 
Quenched all his flames of hope in thickest gloom. 
And sank his looked-for joys within the tomb. 
And all that faith and hope to him e'er gave. 
Submerged beneath affliction's angry wave. 



54: SCENES OF DESPAIR. 

Hs seeks for comfort now, but finds it not. 

His wounds are all unhealed and unforgot ; 

He sees his days to come are dark and wild, 

Where peace and pleasure are to never smile, 

Where jostling cares in wildest fury rave, 

And all is tumult, even to the o^rave. 

They rend, they dash, they break upon the heart. 

As storm-rent oceans on the works of art, 

And weal and life itself seems to depart ; 

The warm affections of the breast are chilFd, 

With anguish'd grief the burdened soul is filPd ; 

Some solitude he seeks where mercies flow, 

And calls on God to stem the tide of woe. 

And though earth's joys with him for aye are fled. 

He in the grave may find a peaceful bed. 

And though each hope of these be from him driven, 

He still may find eternal joys in heaven. 

Though of hopes of earth he may be void. 

Yet hopes of heaven can not be destroyed. 



SCENES OF JOY AND HOPE. 55 



SCENES OF JOY AND HOPE. 



What pleasing scenes present themselves to view, 

And robe afflictions in a pleasant hue, 

That light the path of life with brilliant rays,^ 

Give scope to happiness in all its ways. 

These are the scenes of joy and hope serene, 

That on life's stage with pleasing rays are seen, 

And bid our longing spirits sweetly rest, 

And breathe a balm of peace in every breast, 

Shut to the iron gates of weary care, 

And veil the blackest forms of dark despair, 

Extend their influence mild to all below, 

And dry the gushing tears of grief and woe. 

Bid the rough waves of sorrow to depart. 

And bind up the afflicted, broken heart ; 

To tumults of the mind they whisper, ''Cease ! '' 

And calms the waves of trouble into peace. 

Drive the tempestuous winds of life away. 

And makes our days like those of gentle May, 

Give comfort to the souls that grieve and mourn. 

And cheer the most dejected and forlorn, 

Hide the dread edges of death so piercing keen. 

And point out many years to roll between. 

Enrobe the soul within a glorious cloud, 

And paint it with all searching mind endowVl. 



56 SCENES OF JOY AND HOPE. 

How niiiny youths with eyes sparkling and bright, 

Have felt their touch, and leap'd with pure delight, 

And bounding with their transport, flee 'away, 

Found new enjoyment every opening day, 

And with delighted eyes gazed on nature's scene. 

Found all was order, harmony, serene, 

Th(^ herbs, the flowers, the trees and every spray. 

Looked lovely, cheerful, blooming, pleasing, gay; 

All bore the mark of beauty, and the claim 

That by the hand of nature had been framed ; 

They look about, see all in peace profound. 

Then run, and leap, and shout at eyery bound, 

Still their full souls unable to contain. 

They twist in ever^^ form like one insane ; 

Then break away, each to a hillock green. 

And seats himself to view the lovely scene. 

But scarcely seated here this is forgot. 

Each bounds away to find some other spot, 

Then all, in shouts aloud, their souls overflow. 

And how to govern self they do not know. 

And at each outgush rue, or seem to rue. 

That they can not spread out o'er all they view. 

Their eyes are every where — on those, on these, 
First on their feet, and then upan their knees. 
They skip along and turn in various ways. 
And know not where in full content to gaze. 
And while sweet joy adorns their pathway bright, 
Hope paints the future in more glorious light. 
And as they reach these fuU-of-promise years, 
Each leaning on his manhood, now appears. 



SCENES OF JOY AND HOPE. 67 

And seek for riches, fortune and for fiinie. 

Nor are their manly efforts all in vain, 

But at each step l)oth wealth and honor rise, 

And magnify themselves within their eyes ; 

Fame from her tow'ring mount is seen afar, 

Waving on high her ever-shining star, 

And whispers (through its soft and misty light), 

'' I will be yours if you aspire aright, 

And watch my star through intervening night." 

Through world-bewilderments it leads them on, 

That on that world their glories bright might dawn ; 

O'er rock, o'er crags, a toiling steep they find, 

Yet, cheered b}^ Hope, their way they slowly whid, 

Till the first murmur of applause they hear, 

Then smile for joy to think themselves so near ; 

Thus Hope gives us our strength to persevere. 

And in that present Hope is joy sincere. 



58 LINES WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SCHOOL, 



LINES WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SCHOOL, 



This must close our happy meeting ; 

How it wounds the throbbing heart ! 
The time is fled, and oh how fleeting ! 

Sterner duties bid us part ; 
Must we change fond friendship's token ? 

Take perhaps the last farewell ? 
Must our union be thus broken ? 

And you go elsewhere to dwell ? 

Yes, we feel that time is stealing, 

Ever faithful to its trust, 
And the voice of reason pealing, 

Louder still exclaims, '' We must ! " 
What ! to part, and part forever ? 

Ne'er to meet in union more ? 
How regretting thus to sever ! 

Say our meetings all are o'er. 

O how soon the time has vanish'd 

Since we here flrst met with you ; 
Think — one term has since been banish'd. 

And we now must bid adieu ; 
Go, then, joy and bliss attend you 

Wheresoever you may roam ; 
And the smiles of peace befriend you, 

When with strano^ers and at home. 



LINES WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SCHOOL. 5& 

But when gone, and time is flying, 

Give for us one ling'ring thought, 
When we all were nobly trying 

To improve by what you taught ; 
May it ever be our object 

To improve the heart and mind. 
And may it be our one great project 

To be ever just and kind. 

Often times our thoughts will wander, 

When long years have rolled away. 
Back upon the scenes to ponder. 

Blessings of a happier day ; 
May it be our farewell token. 

Wishing joy and peace with you. 
And that our friendship be unbroken ^ 

Then, Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! 



60 ADIEU TO THE DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 



ADIEU TO THE DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 

And are ye gone, O days of bliss refined ! 

Spent in the culture of the youthful mind ? 

And are you fled and never to return ? 

And does the partino^ year your flight confirm ? 

Yes, on retiring wings forever flown. 

To where oblivion hides the dread unknown. 

Oh blissful hours, whose moments as they flew. 
Brought happiness and peace, adieu ! adieu ! 
Those precious pleasures I'll no more enjoy, 
And holy moments spent in sweet employ, 
To mold and swell the youthful budding heart, 
Whose opening petals just began to part. 

And tho' you're gone, sped on by time's career, 
Yet your sweet savor seems to linger near, 
And bless and hallow life's most turbid sea 
With the perfumes of fondest memory, 
That gives us grace the conflict to renew, 
Till youth eternal heaves its shores in view. 

O talk to me of virtue then — and sin 

May not forbid that I should enter in ; 

But though the storms may rage, and high waves swell, 

The lighthouse is beyond, and all is well ; 

And I may enter port, though dark the night. 

And taste of endless life, and see its liofht. 



PARTING AT SCHOOL. 61 



PARTING AT SCHOOL. 



Oh, how fleet is time's career I 
As revolves the rolling year, 
How the moments disappear, 

And flee eternally ; 
Never ceasingly they fly, 
Roll their countless numbers by ; 
No human power of mind or eye 

Can scan futurity. 

Mark the months and seasons glide ! 
Changes, wrought on every side. 
Wafted onward by that tide, 

Which bears eternity ; 
Floating on its boundless wave. 
The proud, the great, the weak, the brave, 
All toward one common grave. 

The grave, their destiny. 

Thus we too are borne along, 
By that current rolling on. 
Ever constant, ever strong. 

Through all immensity ; 
Soon we leap the verge of life — 
Death shall end each mortal strife. 
Both with sin and sorrow rife, 

And hush them silentlv. 



62 PARTING AT SCHOOL. 

How unceasing is the flow 
Of time's current here below ! 
But a few short weeks affo 

We met in unity ; 
And at first we view'd our stay, 
Here our meetings, day by day, 
As if ne'er to pass away — 

Time fled so quietly. 

But those meetings now are done, 
Finished ere they scarce begun. 
Summer too its course has run, 

And fleeting was its train ; 
Soon dissolves this youthful band, 
For life's duties stern command, 
Bids us take the parting hand, 

Never to meet again. 

For when severed and away. 
Ne'er again returns the day 
When we all shall pass this way, 

And meet as we have done ; 
But as broken clouds of rain 
Never know that place again, 
So when once upon the main, 

We meet no more as one. 

But when time a change has wrought, 
There '11 come to mind what here was taught, 
The prize for which we nobly sought 
And toiled most patiently ; 



PARTING AT SCHOOL. 63 

Those instructions of the heart, 
Which enrich the deathless part, 
Gained by mental toil and art, 
And assiduity. 

What these parting scenes excel ! 
Feelings deep my bosom swell ! 
Classmates, can we say farewell t 

And that eternally ? 
Yes, we must — bid all adieu ! 
And parting be as brothers true. 
When truth and love each mind imbue 

With pure fidelity. 



64 FRIENDSHIP. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



How sweet is friendship's sacred lot, 
Where sordid feelings harbor not — 
To feel that we are unforgot 

By those we dearly love. 
And though unheeding oceans roar, 
'Twixt us and those whom we adore. 
To hope when life's short journey's o'er, 

That we shall meet above. 



And though the world pays us no heed. 

To joys, or woes, or worthy deed, 

To know we've friends whose hearts would bleed 

For every wrong we feel ; 
And who would dare, to old or young, 
Reprove a lie from Envy's tongue. 
That might about our names be flung, 

And strive these wounds to heal. 

To think, when Fortune proves unkind, 
Destroys our comfort, peace of mind, 
That soothers of our cares we'll find 

In those whom we admire ; 
To feel, when sunk in illness deep, 
Or wrapped in Death's eternal sleep. 



FRIENDSHIP. 66 

That there are those who then would weep 
For P^riendship's sacred tire. 

And while weVe earthly friends most dear, 
Who with us smile, or shed the tear, 
There is a Friend we most revere. 

Whom over all we laud, 
Who knows our every joy and woe. 
To whom we can in secret go. 
And who to hear us is not slow — 

That precious friend is God. 

E ;3* 



66 KNOWLEDGE AND VIRTUE, WISDOM AND TRUTH. 



KNOWLEDGE AND VIRTUE, WISDOM AND 
TRUTH. 



Knowledge unci Virtue. Wisdom, Truth, 
Will bloom l)eyond the smiles of youth, 
Shall last when time has flown awa}. 
And left us locks scattered and gray ; 
When age its furrows shall have worn. 
Yet still they will our minds adorn ; 
Give every doubtful pathway light, 
And guide our wand'ring steps aright. 
And shining out from deep within. 
Seek their counterpart in Him 
Who gave them being, and doth send 
All blessings on the sons of men ; 
And gives us privilege to be 
Immortal sons of Deity : 
From out whose wealth forever shine 
Eternal joy and love divine ; 
Show us that endless harmony 
Running through every thing we see, 
Like an eternal chain to bind 
Creator and created kind ; 
Teach us to live that every day 
Will bring its leaf or flower-bud gay, 
To add unto the wreath that now 
They long since hung about our brow ; 



KNOWLEDGE AND VIRTUE, WISDOM AND TRUTH. 67 

Teach us to see some jewel true 

In every rain drop or of dew, 

The germ from which the rainbow's form 

Is arch'd across the rising storm ; 

Teach us each moment to improve 

And drink the joys of Nature's love. 

As day by day we move along, 
O may we listen to the song 
They sing of harmony divine 
Through all her strings in every time, 
And wending down life's rapid stream, 
May these enlighten every dream. 
Till earthly pleasures cease to bloom — 
Then light our pathway to the tomb. 



68 OUR MOTHER. 



OUR MOTHER. 



O mother ! dear mother ! how tender that name ! 
And the love that you bore us, how sacred the flame. 

Their memory large volumes would fill, 
Would speak of those times when, we children so free, 
All played 'round about you, or climbVl at your knee. 

Each anxious to do your good will. 

How persuasive the tones, as those morals you taught, 
In mildness of soul and the clearness of thought. 

As you pointed the wrong and the right; 
How quick we resolved your biddings to do, 
And to your instructions we'd ever l^e true. 

We'd keep every precept in sight. 

Long years have swept by in their hurried array. 
And changed are we all since that happy day. 

But the faith, the (food faith, we have kept, 
And through weal and through woe, though darkness 

and light. 
All our hearts have been sealed and stamped, '"For the 
right," 
The type of which stamp you had set. 

How well I remember with pleasure and pride. 
While yet a mere stripling, I walked by your side, 



OUR MOTHER. 69 

While viewing the field and tiie wood ; 
You showed me the stream, as it laughed on its way, 
The leaflet, and blossom, and liower-hud gay, 

And said that their maker was good. 

How in wisdom divine he'd made you and 1 
With souls that should love him, and never to die, 

As long as that love should endure ; 
That over Deatli's way, on a far brighter shore. 
His fullness of joy would be ours evermore, 

Where all would be stable and pure. 

Then with the same hand you me tenderly led, 

You warmer pressed mine, and right pleadingly said 

*' My son, will you meet me above ? '^ 
That same hand leads me still, through hopes and through 

fears. 
Though you have passed over way back in the years, 

I pray I may meet you in love. 



70 A VISION OF THE MIND. 



A VISION OF THE MIND. 



In meditation deep I pondi'ing stood, 
Far from the eye of man in a lone wood, 
Where all was silence save the passing breeze, 
That stirred eaeh pendant bow Avith graceful ease. 

My tranquil mind, now wrapt in thought profound. 

Surveys the harmony of nature 'round ; 

Now soars aloft up to the azure skies. 

Then on fleet wings to heights mcjre lofty rise — 

Searches creation, vast, expansive, broad. 

In ample scope yon boundless arch of God — 

Sees countless suns in endless grandeur shhie. 

And worlds unnumbered rolling there sublime. 

Which with deep wonder till the pond' ring soul. 

And talk of Nature's Builder as they roll; 

Still soaring upward, and still mounting higher, 

Till burns my breast with a celestial tire, 

And longs my soul (if ])ut by glim'ring ray), 

To see one feeble measure ot the wa\ 

God rules the watches of the silent hours, 

And veils his lace, and his mysterious powers; 

Surmount the barriers that conceal each star. 

And all the gates of mystery unbar. 

It reaches, grasps, reaches and grasps again. 

And finding each attempt both weak and vain, 



A VISION OF THE MIND. 71 

And every thing too vast to comprehend. 
It checks its flight, and to the earth descends ; 
And even here, in every plant and flower, 
Beholds the wonders of his sovereign power ; 
Here towers the oak, and there the lofty pine. 
Here grows the herb, and there the creeping vnie ; 
Each speak alike God's great unequaled skill. 
And with wild wonder our whole being fills. 
Why grows the fern, or yonder simple weed ^ 
Why springs the grass to decorate the meads ? 
I ask, and waiting for an answer, pause. 
Who can reply or who show forth the cause ? 
None can reply, nor none have aid to lend, 
No tongue can tell, no mind can comprehend ; 
For here God's mysteries are unreveal'd, 
As in the widest walks of Nature's field. 
His power is shown in things of simple form. 
As well as in the vengeance of the storm ; 
And in the low and humble creeping vine 
Is veiled that mystic wisdom, all divine, 
That heaves the ocean in its angry roar. 
While all secure we listen on the shore. 

Pond'ring awhile a change of theme I wrought ; 
O'er varied scenes rolled the deep tide of thought. 
And visions rich were pressed upon the mind. 
In moments few, which hours could not define. 
And having scan'd the works of nature wide, 
In countless forms outstretched on either side, 
All on a sudden came this thought to mind : 
*' What different dispositions have mankind ; 



72 A VISION OF THE MIND. 

"The quick, the slow, the foolish and the wise " — 
The second thought awakened my surprise ; 
A hasty sketch of this bewildering maze, 
And I was lost in its intricate ways, 
And thoughts now wandered here and there, • 
Darkened with doubt, and much perplexed with dkre; 
AVhen all at once, lo ! to my great surprise, 
A crowded vision passed before my eyes. 
Plain and distinct, in elegance arrayVl ; 
Upon a mountain's side it seem displayed, 
Where a vast nudtitude of every age. 
In various pursuits seem'd to engage ; 
Some were in silks, and some in tatters clad. 
Some walked rejoicing, some deject and sad ; 
Some pined in want, and some in mammon rolPd, 
Some gloried in their wits, but more in gold ; 
Some tread the path of vice, and some of truth, 
Some bow'd in age, and some rejoiced in youth; 
And some were boasting, vain, presumptuous, proud. 
Others were meek, with loftier minds endowed ; 
Yet all were hurried down life's crowded way. 
And death seemed ever to prolong his stay. 
And while his victim yet was unaware. 
He quickly seized and spread the fatal snare, 
Then o'er their eyes drew a deep, doleful gloom, 
Quench'd life's bright spark, then hurled them to the 
tomb. 

These lost to sight, my eyes the search renew. 
Of this mix'd maze sti-etch'd out before my view, 
When, all at once arrested, they l)ehold 



A VISION OF THE MIND. 7o 

A diflerciit (>cene, all dcckVl with pearl and gold ; 

The young, the beautiful, the gay, the fair, 

Dance heedless on and toss their curling hair, 

Rev'ling in luxury, and glee, and mirth. 

And all the fickle vanities of earth ; 

No sober thoughts are press'd upon the mind, 

But seem to reason and to judgment blind. 

On, on they go, led by blind passion's call. 

Into the vices of intemperance fall. 

All these to them are rapture, joy and glee, 

No foll3^ snare or coming sorrow see. 

And reaching now where join life's single strands, 

Two by two march forth in Hymen's bands, 

Still rev'ling in extravagance and pride. 

Each truth, each virtue, boldly they deride, 

And nothing but those baser feelings heed. 

Which In-ing but transient joy. and then succeed 

Their oftsprings, wasting tortures, care and pain, 

Debasing every function, soul and brain, 

Render the mind and morals unrefined. 

And ever leave a conscious sting behind. 

But mark, far winding into misty gloom, 
The scene extends e'en to the very tomb. 
And at each step enjoyments now decrease. 
Till laughter, joy and mirth, and pleasures cease 
And end in pestilence, disease and, pain. 
Where sorrow and regret triumphant reign. 
There walk the lame, decrepid, halt and blind. 
Who are diseased in members and in mind ; 
4 



74 A VISION OF THE MIND. 

On, on they march, attended by despair. 
And death in wildest triumph revels there. 

All, all beyond, the darkest clouds conceal 
Nothing its awful secrets dare reveal. 
Dismal and dense heaves up the inky mass. 
Eternal, groaning, dread, expansive, vast. 
Shock'd at the scene, in haste I turn away 
To seek some spot where smiles the face ot day. 

When, lo I extended on the other side, 

A brilliant vision wended broad and wide 

Of different views, unto my eyes appears. 

Crowned with sweet life and bright, successive years 

Here crowds of l)einos seem to move alons^. 

Guided by virtue, and by reason strong. 

No vain indulgence, feast or dance is seen. 

But all is quietude and peace serene. 

No drunken vanities this peace destroy. 

But Virtue's smile brings there unceasing joy, 

And with a steady flame lights up the way. 

The same to-morrow as it is to-day. 

Mark! winding far, the varied scenes extend 
With that same brightness to life's journey's end» 
And the approach of death seems but to cheer, 
A change of earthly things for things more dear ; 
.For, far beyond the confines of the tomb, 
Instead of dismal clouds and deep'ning gloom. 
All is contentment, happiness and love. 
Which seem to blend with the pure realms above. 



A VISION OF THE MIND. 75 

Here full contentment, smiles and gladness reigns. 
And pure enjoyment spreads its wide domain, 
And heavenly blessings cluster all around, 
And stings of vice are never to be found. 
Here walk the good, the temperate, thought I, 
And their rewards end not, though they may die. 

Ihit, lo I another scene in difierent hues appears, 
Adorn'd with youth, all mirthfulness and cheer ; 
The young, the gay, the hopeful, and the fair 
Are met, and pleasure, mirth and joy are there. 
Upon each brow the smiles of transport glow. 
And pure enjoyments there abundant tlow ; 
From eye to eye looks full of meaning dart, 
Unveiling the emotions of the heart. 
All is hilarity, pleasing and gay, 
And time, unnoticed, hasty flees away. 
And Ease and Elegance have lent their share 
To make this scene a scene of beauty rare. 

But, mark, amid the joy-envelop VI throng, 
A form, more grave, sedately moves along. 
At his approach the smiling throng gives way, 
And gazing on, a cold respect they pay. 
The stranger seats himself with sober mien, 
The throng removes the space he left between. 
And all resumes its former shape again. 
And gayety takes up its thoughtless reign. 

Still this one sits, composed, calm and serene. 
Nor joins the sport, the gay and festive scene, 



T6 A VISION OF THE MIND. 

But on the crowd he looks with steadfast gaze. 
Sees every glance and marks its every phase. 
Though through the throng disdainful whispers run. 
And sneers and scofls oft-times at him are flung. 
He heeds them not, Ijut Avith a ready art, 
Reads what is passing now in every heart ; 
Knows what each bosom, what each brain conceals, 

What passions rule, and what each person feels. 

* 

Not here he came to join the sport and play 

As did the rest, to hurry time away, 

But his prime object was, and sole design, 

To search the heart, and read th« human mind ; 

And with a piercing eye, on either side, 

He saw the pomp of show, the swell of pride, 

And learn VI to know in whom such passions grew. 

To mark its features from the outward view. 

Thus he his secret purposes fulfills. 

From outward show to read tlie inward will. 

Thus unobserved, unknown and unaware. 

The pent-up feelings of each breast laid bare; 

And here he saw deceit in ever}^ form. 

All seeming calm without, while in was storm. 

And while without were sunshine, smiles, and light, 

Within was gkK)m and darkness black as night. 

But farther on 'way to the distant right. 

And merging into mist, another sight 

Appears. In solitude one sets retirVl 

With upturn VI eyes and heaven-like thoughts inspired. 

A mairic lyre within one hand he holds. 



A VISION OF THE MIND. 7T 

And with the other Nature's book unfolds; 

And as he turns the ample leaves of time, 

He reads in words and sentiments sublime, 

Of chano;es wrought, as ages rolled between, 

Of warring elements, and prospects more serene. 

Now some grand scenes his heaven-bent mind inspire 

With earnest hand he strikes the magic lyre, 

And every land beneath the sun resound, 

And raptur'd nations listen to the sound — 

From age to age repeat the heaven-born strain, 

And on enduring tablets write his name 

In burning characters of living fire, 

That unborn generations might admire. 

And still another scene breaks to the view, 

In living form and pencil'd with its hue ; 

For there behold, far up the mountain side, 

In moving characters stretch'd far and wide, 

A mass of people seem to gather 'round. 

Some favored object, fam'd and much renown'd, — 

I see their banners as they sink and rise. 

Hear shouts resound that rend the very skies. 

And then with all attention listens every ear ; 

Each face now flushed with joy, now pale with fear^ 

Then clap their hands and admiration breathe. 

And his lov'd name with loud applauses wreath ; 

Now all to silence sinks — but, hark ! I hear 

The accents of one voice, distant and clear, 

"Where those bright liberties we once professed ? 

And sacred privileges ever bless'd ? 

And where the honors which we once enjoy'd ? 



78 A VISION OF THE MIND. 

All ])y his usurpations foul destroy'd. 

Inch by inch he crowded out our day, 

Till over all he holds despotic sway. 

And darkness now is curtained in the door, 

Where shone the light of Freedom's sun before. 

Arise and bid defiance to his miaht. 

And strike for Liberty and for the right ; 

Haste and widely spread the loud alarm ! 

Gird on the sword and nerve the warrior's arm, 

Revenge the wrongs of our much injured land 

Upon its foes, 'tis Duty's stern command, 

And by the aid of heaven and mortal powers, 

Kegain those liberties that once were ours. 

Or dye in blood these bright surrounding plains, 

Spilt by our hands from out our foremen's veins." 

It paused. One form was standing up alone, 
And that with excellence superior shone ; 
His ample forehead, unconcealed and fair, 
Show'd well some noble gift was hidden there ; 
^'Revenge " was pictur'd on that fervent brow, 
And deep within a storm seem'd gathering now. 
While to high heaven he breathed a solemn vow, 
And seem'd to call for aid from the Most Hio^h, 
And aid was given — in flashes from his eye ; 
And then as if the answerino^ thunder's roll 
Had unobserved dropp'd down into his soul, 
"To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! " he loudly cries, 
And at his call the congregations rise 
As thick as autumn's frost-blanch'd forest leaves, 
When swept in clouds before a stirring breeze, — 



A VISION OF THE MINI). 79 

Earth shiikes and trembles as their footsteps ftilL 
And Vengeance is the universal call. 
'' Victory or death " is breatli'd from every tongue 
With untold ardor by the old and young. 
All move with nleasured tread in haste along, 
Upon the wheels of mind and power of song, 
Each heart is firm resolvxl, each arm made strong, 
And though each bosom burns with ardent fire. 
Still the one voice each throbbing heart inspires, 
And nerves each arm the sheathless sword to wield 
In self-defense upon the battle-field. 

As when the winds with distant forests war, 

And their leaf-woven banners wave afar, 

The noise come rushing on the listening ear. 

As heard far otf, then near, and still more near, 

Like noise, into my inner senses came 

As moved this mass, as billows on the main ; 

I see them now in contest fierce engage, 

Arms clash with arms and wildest furies rage, 

Hear shouts of loudest triumph, sink and rise. 

That shake the earth and roll along the skies — 

The foeman's ranks give way, and o'er the ground 

His dead in heaps lay scattered 'round and 'round — 

He flees for safety, hurrying o'er the strand, 

And freedom once again smil'd on that land. 

Here is the power of Eloquence, thought I, 
Given to few, and from some hand on high. 

I look'd again — but all had pass'd away, 
The vision clos'd as set the orb of day. 



80 TRAGIC SCEyES. 



TRAGIC SCENES OF REAL LIFE. 



From that deep source from whence there constant 

springs 
A ceaseless tide of thouo-ht, that on tieet winir 
Come from, and s^o to dark oblivious niofht, 
One nobler thous^ht come, burstinof forth in mififht; 
And engine-like, drew freighted trains along, 
Upon the wheels of thought, and power of song. 
Which as they moved along the track survey'd 
Of nature's works in truth and beauty laid, 
The clouds roll'd back that long had hid the past, 
And bared to view I 'road regions strange and vast: 
Through mem'ry's glass surveyed the sacred scene 
Of cherish'd life that long, long since had been. 
And touch'd a deep-toned string, and woke a strain 
So heavenly sweet, poor mortals could not name; 
Then swept witli hurried liand the magic lyre. 
And set the longing souls of men on fire ; 
And in a car of flame bore them away 
To heavenly scenes where shine more glorious day ; 
Pictured such scenes as made each bosom swell 
With new emotions at each strain that fell. 
As o'er some wild and tragic scene it threw 
The glowing beauties of immortal hue. 

Now to a humble cottage leads the way, 
Where peace had ever held a joyful swa}^, 



TRAGIC SCENES. 81 

And sweet enjoyment own'd a bappy home 

Within each bosom, sheltered hy this dome; 

Here two fond parents lived, and love enjoy 'd ; 

No hostile edicts had their bliss annoy'd, 

Far from the care-worn world dissever'd wide. 

This happy circle grouped, and side by side 

Poured out their thoughts, and shared life's sun and 

showers 
In a domestic way, and joy rolled on the hours, 
And unfeio^n'd love went out from heart to heart. 
Which fresh enjoyments to each one imparts. 
Bright, cheerful looks the lingering hours beguilxl ; 
Here a fond brother and a sister smilil ; 
And ever and anon a lover came, 
A lofty soul, with noble heart iniiam'd. 
And sweetly spent a few fleet-gliding hours, 
RolPd swiftly on by warm affection's powers; 
For who can tell how swift the moments glide, 
When lovers meet, and love's mysterious tide. 
Flows to and from the heart, and from the eye 
To eye strange stolen looks unbidden fly. 
But, lo ! a change. The hostile trumpet blows ; 
O'er hill and vale are breath'd ten thousand woes. 
War, war ! resounds and rings in every ear, 
Lisp'd from pale lips, half dead with trembling fear. 
And on the wind these hated mandates fly. 
Wounds every ear and waters every eye : 
'^ Who hath the youthful strength, fit ai-ms to bear 
Gird on, and rush into the field of war, 
And, if it be required, your lives lay down, 
For your own country's sake, and for its crown." 
F 



82 TRAGIC SCENES. 

The 'inmates of this cottage heard the cry, 
And brother and the loved one now lay by 
Their humble garb, and wrap their manly forms 
In martial robes to meet the coming storms. 

They now with friends must part, leave all so dear 

To youthful minds, sweet home, and happy cheer. 

For the dread field of strife -^ for death and fear. 

Each fond one's cheek is kiss'd, each hand is pressed — 

Tears choke up utterance — from each swelling breast 

Roll soul-breav'd sighs, hearts throl), and words are few— 

They part ; and in the distance, wave adieu, 

Then to the contest hasten, while they mourn 

Tl^emselves from home and all its blessings torn. 

While they in silence hurry on their way, 

Behind their thoughts doth linger and would stay. 

Ere they should mix in battle's bk)ody fray. 

All scenes of former days more distant grow. 

And on each side a wider contrast show. 

Till mountains, hills and valleys robed in green. 

Rise up, extend and stretch themselves between, 

And each familiar sight is lost to view. 

And all that eye can scan is strange and new. 

The camp is reached — strange faces press around. 

And on the air is wafted strans^er sounds ; 

How changed indeed ! the rude and haughty stare. 

Takes now the place of smiles from lovVl ones fair. 

And martial music now that rolls along. 

Supply the place of voices joined in song. 

Tlie vulgar throat is heard to curse and swear 

^'here once went up the pure and holy prayer. 



TRACJIC SCENES. 83 

And foi' the vvliolosoiiie shelterVl nejit-clad bed. 
The cold dew-covered ground is used instead. 
Hard to forsake a constant joy-fed life 
For the rude soldier's fare — the field of strife. 
Voices of friends, familiar, fond and dear, 
For noise of throngs and din of arms they bear, 
Parental tender looks, for lowering miens — 
And love\'^ warm <xlances for the saber's orle;uns. 

But such it was, and night came slowly on. 
And sleepless hours were passed ere morning dawn — 
Another bustling day, and next the strife — 
When force would meet opposing force, and life 
Would pour out life — another night sweeps by, 
And morning streaks the oriental sky. 
The matin trumpet gives the loud alarm, 
And bids the slumbering field awake to arms. 

Each from his nightly couch, the damp, cold ground 

(With but a blanket loosely wrapped around). 

Springs forth surprised, and with half open eyes, 

Looks now on earth and now upon the skies, 

To learn their post and mission for the day, 

For in their dreams they had been borne away 

To visit once again their happy home. 

And live o'er days that long, long since had liown ; 

And when awakened by the morn's first beams. 

They thought themselves still 'mid their native scenes. 

But looking 'round on all, above, below. 

Awoke the strange reality to know. 

And grasping arms offensive or to shield, 



84 TRAGIC SCENES. 

Soon banded all appear on battle field, 

And scouts are out, to search with watchful eye — 

When, lo ! a grove of spears, all brandish'd high, 

And gleaming in the sun, burst on the view. 

While an unbroken mass in darker hue, 

Roll'd like a swelling tide upon the plain, 

Bearins^ ofrim Death and suro^ins: like the main, 

Until the far-off hills half hid from sight, 

(^That seem'd yet curtain'd in the shades of night), 

Mov'd with a misty cloud ; and on the breeze 

A murmur rose, as tempest-hoven seas. 

As stretch'd the cloud along, the nearer end 
Turn'd into foaming steeds, and armed men. 
Which came as broken billows from afar. 
And with them brought the clamorous sounds of war, 

Now host opposes host in dreadful fray, 

And rolls the din of battle far away ; 

Now speaks the cannon in its thunder tones. 

And laden is the air with dying groans, 

As men and horses fall on either hand. 

Death, grim and fearful, takes his ghastly stand. 

And pours the ebbing tide of life away, 

From youthful hearts that have just left their play ; 

Dark human gore streams o'er the trodden ground, 

And Havoc, heap'd on Havoc, weeps around. 

Now host meets host, with bayonets between ; 

Now sabers fiercely glare and broad-swords gleam, 

Now plunging in the heart with fearful ire. 

Now dripping with life's blood, now flashing fire. 



TRAGIC SCENES. 85 

The brother and th(^ lovM one side by sid(i. 
Fight brave as bravest in the battle tried. 
A beardless boy is on their right, as brave, 
And he has won immortal honors — save 
To these two precious youth he lends more care 
Than to his country's cause, which seems not fair — 
Engages in the fiercest contest here. 
Meets Danger's palest face without a fear. 
Dares to hold combat with the skillVl and strong, 
And shines a new-found star amid the throng — 
Quick in defense the oppress'd his power know, 
Hope to each friend and terror to each foe ; 
Over these favorVl two keeps watchful eye 
Of everv kind of dansrer hov'rini2: nia;h. 

And now this lover, with a foeman strives ; 
Both strike and fiercely grapple for their lives — 
Now through the ranks a fierce opponent wades, 
Wielding w^ith giant arm a deadly blade, 
Wrath on his brow and vengeance in his eye. 
And, burning with revenge, he whispers, '' Die ! " 
Above this lover's head, his sword in air. 
Soon to descend and deal destruction there. 
Had not this youth (as if some spirit sped), 
Raised his quick arm and struck the assassin dead. 
Then turned and with his crimson wreaking steel. 
The other gasping laid upon the field. 
Joy and amazement sparkled from the eye 
Of him who else had been invoked to die ; 
A deep-soul'd, gratitude-filTd look was all 
The moment would allow — the leader's call 



86 TRAGIC SCENES. 

Now loudly sounds, commanding them away, 

To mix in other scenes of bloody fray. 

And though the contest raged and the tierce strife 

GrcAV hotter still, and death and life 

Oft struggled here, yet still this saved one yearn'd 

To breathe out thanks that in his bosom burn'd, 

To him who had prolonged life's flame within. 

And saved from death amid the battle's din. 



Through many bloody scenes that day they rangVl, 

Till Victory's shout from rank to rank proclaim'd 

'Twas done, and foemen fleeing here and there. 

Told whom success had crowned, and whom despair; 

These beings fled, and those rejoiced. Again 

The camp contains and friend embraces friend ; 

The lov'd one, youth and brother nobly meet, 

And with overflowing souls each other greet. 

Their feelings deep no longer brook control, 

But swelling now outgush from either soul ; 

Warm hands are pressed, and copious tears are shed. 

And blessings called to rest upon each head ; 

With burning eloquence they tell the tale 

Of dangers passed — none dreaming they could fail. 

But high above all conflicts each could see 

Within his bosom written, '^ Victory ! " 

And the youth said, with speaking eye and soul, 

Some higher power did all his acts control. 

The brother gazing in those speaking eyes 

Of this fair youth : " Ema I sister ! '' strangely cries, 

'' Angel of earth ! What I sister < — Can it be ? 



TRAGIC SCENES. 5 

Amid these frantie scenes ? — Ah, yes, I see 

That soul of yours o'erflovvini;' in each look — 

How could you leave your father's home and l)rook ? — 

But, no ! — it's not — rather some spirit fair/' 

She lifts her cap — down falls her curling hair- 

A perfect lady, filled with perfect gracp, 

LookYl from her eyes and shone within her face. 

All stood amazed — wild wonder seized a host, 

Amid surprise and admiration lost — 

To see a girl, of every charm possess'd, 

With th' army mix'd, and in a soldier's dress. 

The lover rush'd and clasp'd her in his arms ; 

^' What Power," says he, '' amid these dire alarms, 

Has shielded, or what partial God has nerv'd 

Thee to protect, and this frail life preserve ! 

Could I have dream'd that 'twas a charming maid 

AYhose arm defended and whose ready blade 

Had brought the fierce assassin to the ground 

Ere his drawn sword had struck the fatal wound ? 

O, Virtuous ! Brave ! Thou fairest of the fair ! 

This life was quite unworthy of your care. 

What for this act from me will you demand 'i 

Yours it shall be ! " She blushed and said, " Your hand !' 

In voice so soft and tones so sweetly low 

That few could hear the Avords ; yet all might know. 

Hearts most engrossed to tender feelings yield. 

As snow to spring when melting on the field. 

He reached it forth, '' By promise it is thine " 

He said, " and thou, a precious prize, art mine. 

" Who, on the doubtful field of bloody war, 

Has e'er before been bless'd with such a star ( " 



S^ TRAGIC SCENES. 

And now, and here, their hearts and hands were bound, 
Each one to each in holy wedlock joinVl. 

Now still in magic strains it rolls along 

O'er scenes where wild surprise wak'd feelings strong. 

And painting these in mental gilt and gold, 

With sweetest numbers charm \i the listiiing soul, 

As robed in thoughts of rainbow-blended hue. 

It swiftly passed before the enchanted view, 

And captive l)ore each sympathy away 

On its increasing tide. The plain, the gay. 

The old and young alike enraptured hear. 

Now smile for joy, and now let drop a tear ; 

While Love and Hate, bright Hope and dark Despair, 

And Life and Death are strangely mingled there. 

So that this feeble tongue could never tell 

One-tenth the pictures drawn and painted well. 

One theme— a son, who left his native home 

Ere childhood's flush from his smooth cheek had flown. 

Long years had fled, and in their wheel old Time 

Had hung his progress and in every clime 

Had wrought a change. Here life had pass'd away. 

And there, bright, sunny locks had turn'd to gray ; 

The mother anxious watched, but all in vain ;" 

From her departed, still no tiding came. 

Her tottering steps were wending to the tomb, 

And on her fading cheek, despair and gloom. 

Sat brooding grief. Thus by parental care 

Worn out, 'twas once, while she a fervent prayer 

Was breathing forth to heavc^i's eternal God, 



TRAGIC SCENES. 89 

That her dear, darling boy. now cast abroad 
Upon the teeming world, might shielded b(^ 
From dangers of this life none else could see; 
And bring him home to bless her waning days, 
And her to cheer, while life's last, lingering rays 
Were growing dimmer still at every hour, 
And soon must yield to Death's dissolving power, 
As to the frost must yield the smiling flower. 

Once while her prayer was being winged on high, 
A wearied stranger was approaching nigh, 
And caught the earnest accents in his ear. 
And pausing at the door he stood to hear. 
Each rising sentence breathed upon his soul. 
And bade its waters as an ocean roll. 
When winds were high and blowing uncontroled ; 
For he it Avas for whom this prayer arose 
And that same voice he'd heard ere sweet repose 
In early years his eyes had nightly closed. 
When he in childhood played, and all was bright. 
And life's fair morn was rosy with delight. 

As streams from never-failing fountains flow. 
So prayer from Christian hearts who truly know 
Its power to bring the blessing which it craves, 
To sooth and feed the hungry soul it laves ; 
Thus from this mother's Christian heart arose 
Such holy prayer at every evening's close. 
As flowed away to heaven's eternal throne. 
Bearing desires and wishes all her own; ' 

So pure and earnest, full of hoW love, 

4* 



90 TRAGIC SCENES. 

That God in mercy heard, and from above, 

With holy hand unseen, had guided home 

Her wandering boy, ere life's frail spark had flown. 

To be a jo}^ in her declining days, 

Just as the sun's last lingering rays 

Are beauty to the eve. And now agam 

Goes from her inmost soul the deep Amen . 

The stranger, moved with feeling, forth at once 

In silence breath'd a soul-felt, deep response — 

RappVi at the door ; it ope'd and the same form 

That had bent o'er him in life's sunny morn, , 

Now stood before his gaze. Though bow'd with care 

And blanch'd with storms, the self-same soul was there, 

And look'd at once in tenderness on him. 

His soul, ]:>ig with emotions, swell'd within, 

And press'd the fountain of his tears, whose flood 

Gush'd from his eyes (warm'd by the quicken'd blood). 

Which down his cheeks in copious streamlets roU'd. 

Back'd by a power unaided, uncontrol'd. 

He was absorbed in feelings deep and pure. 

Which memiy brought, and effort could not cure. 

Then cried, '' Thy prayer is answer'd — thou hast won : 

Mother ! 'tis I ! — 'tis George, thy long lost son I " 

Back roll'd the tide of life — hush'd was her l^reatii. 

And on her cheek the image pale of death ; 

Joy and surprise took her in their control. 

And seem'd dissevering body and the soul. 

But when the tide of life seem'd ebb'd away. 

It soon flowed back into its wonted bay. 

And gave the cheeks a more than mortal glow: 

Seeming as youth returned in its deep flow. 



TRAGIC SCENES- 91 

And age renewVl, that she again might share 
Her son's return, and feel the force of prayer. 

And now the lyre is swept with gentle hand, 

And from its murmuring strings, sounds sweet and bland 

Arise and mingle with the swelling soul. 

And love in many 'witching spells unrolls. 

As twines its circling ivy 'round the heart, 

And kisses sweetly every vital part. 

Folding two noble souls in its embrace, 

Though oceans spread an intervening space ; 

Yet ti'ue to every trust they both remain, 

And feed within their breasts Love's living flame. 

Years sweep along — met they have not — nor cast 

One look save in the mem'ry of the past. 

The one among cold strangers moves alone. 

The other peacefully remains at home ; 

Though different seem^their lots they are the same — 

Both for each other live — constant remain ; 

Though different scenes they witness from without. 

\Yithin no contrasts rise, or fear or doubt. 

No doubtful clouds obscure their future sky. 

But ''■ Constancy" o'er all is written high ; 

And, looking down the stream of life, they see 

By faith's far-reaching eye when both shall be 

As one in holy wedlock joined, and Hope 

To every joy applies her microscope. 

The one returns again, unknown as yet. 

And seeks the spot where oft before they've met^ 



92 TRAGIC SCENES. 

In converse sweet at evening's holy liour. 

And where afiection with a gentle powder 

Had planted flowers of love about each heart. 

Approaching near, these well known scenes impart 

A joy, that through each nervelet sways control, 

And drinks refresh'd from the observing soul. 

In former times here he was wont to stroll, 

And in the charms of childhood to behold 

All things in beauty, every plant and tree. 

And saw them all as he was wont to see, 

Uncloak'd with care, wild, fetterless and free ; 

But as he nears the sacred spot where they 

Was wont to meet at hours of twilight gray 

A gentle voice came trolling in his ear, 

Freighted with well known tones and accents dear ; 

He starts with soul entranced — he lists — the same 

Again fleet-wing'd in silvery accents came ; 

Intent, all eagerness he stands, and mute ; 

No nerve or muscle moves, how'er minute ; 

His name is lisp'd — he starts — intenter grows. 

While through his veins wild feelings strangely flow ; 

One moment rushing center at the heart. 

The next diflTused through every vital part. 

That voice so sweet heard oft in other days, 

Wakes fond remembrance in a thousand ways. 

The evening zephyrs 'mid the flowers sigh'd, 

Fair Beauty smiFd in all the prospect wide, 

The field, the grove, each object wore a charm, 

And seem'd to rest in well pleas'd Nature's arms. 

But sweeter far was that soft voice to him 

Than all those happy sights and sounds had been. 



TRAGIC SCENES. 93 

Now floats this well known voice in accents clear, 
And brings these words distinctly to his ear : 
''Upon this spot my heart was woo'd and won 
By Edmond, honorVl Virtue's noble son. 
The gentle influence of his speaking eye 
Is like the sumbeams on yon evening sky. 
Or like as when a trenibing drop of dew. 
Within those beams show every sever'd hue ; 
And when in fullness of his soul he spoke, 
'Twas sweet as ancient Memnon's morning note. 
His sacred promise of fidelity 
To me I know is sure, as sure as can be ; 
On this I hang my earnest heart — my all — 
And by it ever stand, or with it fall. 
And where is Edmond now? " (it louder cries, 
And zephyr-wafted plainer — wider — dies.) 

He forward rush'd and cried, '* Edmond is here ! 
Come once again to meet his Ema dear," 
(And then he fondly clasp Vl her in his arms), 
''Nor will he more be sever'd from her charms." 
It ceased — around — below and from above 
Each strain left smiling — these, embraced in love. 



A NIGHTLY SCENE. 



A NIGHTLY SCENE. 



How grand and peaceful is a nightly scene 
When busy life is hush'd, and night's pale queen, 
Diffusing light, in grandeur walks the sky, 
Revealing to the enraptured gazer's eye 
Soft beauties else unseen — now, half concealed. 
The ocean, mountain, forest and the field. 

When countless stars that glitter from above, 
Kiss slumbering earth with whispers of their love; 
Or when on ocean they appear to be 
High up in heaven or down deep in the sea; 
While here and there, borne on their silent way. 
Some fleeting clouds obscure the moon's pale ray. 
Which add new beauty to the quiet scene. 
Rolling their shadows o'er the deep serene ; 
Then disappear forever from the sight, 
Vanish away in common shades of night ; 
Whije momentary veiling moon and star. 
They show more fully what they truly are, 
Akin to fleeting visions of the mind. 
While from above Eternal Wisdom shines. 
And the Ubiquitary God displays 
The star-decked grandeur of his works and ways. 
Nocturnal scenes like these, a single view 
Recall to mind, while on the ocean blue : 



A NIGHTLV SCENE 95 

Upon one hand lay hills and vales enchained. 
And on the other, stretchVl the miiTor'd main, 
Like some tremendons monster lulFd to rest 
With the wide arch of heaven on its breast ; 
And cradled by its side, the slumbering land. 
With moon-lit rocks and mountains huge and grand. 
Hard on the water's edge and mountain's side, 
A lofty elm rear'd itself in pride. 
As though an ensign set 'twixt land and sea. 
And proud between such mighty powers to be. 

Not far away, wasted by many a storm, 

A cottage stood, lonely, but not forlorn; 

Its inmates there were wrappVl in silent sleep, 

Careless of all about, on land or deep. 

So we, 'mid dangers and inid beauties lie. 

Unconscious quite that either hover nigh ; 

Upon the right, high rear'd the rocky steep. 

And hurl'd defiance back upon the deep. 

And seem'd to say, " In all your storm-beat rage. 

Touch not these slumbering ones from age to age. 

And here your bounds forevermore must be, 

Though white capp'd waves drive fiercely o'er the sea."" 

All here was grandeur, born of God divine — 
Sleeping grandeur, fit to impress the mind 
With visions rich, which fortune can not blind. 
Nor Lethe's stream with all its waters bind. 



96 THE ANCIENT CASTLE. 



THE ANCIENT CASTLE. 



On the rude oceans wild and rock-built shore, 
Where bleak winds howl and billows dash and roar. 
An ancient castle stands, massive and high, 
With moss-couch'd turrets looking to the sky. 
Which seem to frown as frown the storms on them. 
Or smile when night unveils her diadems. 
Or gazing up into the azure blue. 
They seem responsive to that mellow hue. 

And when mild Calm wide settles on the liillsy 
Lulls the crazed sea, and the fierce tempest stills, 
These waters mirror forth its mossy face. 
And high and massive walls, with perfect grace, 
More true than hand can paint, or pencil trace. 
Then this queer antiquary seems to be 
Both on the shore and underneath the sea ►, 
Then spirits strange appear to near the spot, 
And tell o'er tales that have been long forgot. 
About those hands that bade these walls arise, 
In other times, beneath the self-same skies ; 
And eyes that saw these beauties long ago, 
And minds that felt a kindred glow 
Of inspiration, kindPd by the sight. 
As we, now, wonder-fiUVl with strange delight 



THE ANCIENT CA8TLE. 97 

O what emotions follow in their train, 

As we .survey these works without a name I 

The throngs that crowded once these spacious rooms 

Long since have slumberVl in their silent tombs; 

And time has written, with his pc-ncil gray. 

Upon these walls, "Ages have i)assed away 

Since first these stones by human hand were pilM 

This structure reared, now lonely, waste and wild; 

Those hands have died, and, too, without a name — 

The structure has outliv'd the l)uilders' fame.*' 



G 



O FOR A AVALK AMONG THE STARS. 



O FOR A WALK AMONG THE STARS. 



could I wing my restless soul — 

To yonder heaven I 'd take my flight ; 

1 'd range yon vault from Pole to Pole, 
And view those diadems of night ; 

As quick as thought would I reveal 
The hidden mysteries of the skies, 

Remove the veil that conceals 

Their brightest glories from my eyes. 

Could I but rove creation o'er, 

And view its wonders far and broad, 
On wings of light I 'd quickly soar, 

And search yon blazonry of God; 
Explore yon star, which seems to shine 

To decorate the silent night 
In world-wide grandeur all sublime. 

And basking in Eternal Light. 

Yon twinkling host, which now I see. 
That 's ever shone since time begun. 

When near approached would prove to be 
Eternal, rolling, blazing suns ; 

How gi'and the scene could I but fly 
Through all the boundlessness of space. 



O FOR A WALK AMONG THE STARS. 99 

Survey the works of the Most High, 
His matchless proofs of boundless grace. 

But while I'm bound in flesh below, 

Contented I mnst always be 
Of what I see, and hear, and know 

Of yonder vast ijiimensity. 
Though small the part which we behold, 

Compared with all His works above. 
Yet quite enough to unfold 

Omniscient Power and boundless love. 

Then as we tread this earthly sphere. 

From which we can not climb or stray, 
But gazing upward to revere 

And longing for to soar away ; 
Will not these longings be repaid. 

When soul from mortal coil is free ? 
Shall we not rise above the shade, 

And touch, inspired, — a higher key ? 

Then soul immortal, freed from clay, 

Will seek its own affinity, 
And basking in the smiles of day. 

Converse with holy Deity ; 
Communing with that love divine. 

That all his works doth show. 
Will rise amid that love to shine. 

And of its ample fullness know. 



100 REFLECTIONS ON THE SETTING OF THE SUN. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE SETTING OF THE SUN. 



The sun is in the West declining, 
Slowly down he seems to move, — 

Obliquely now his rays are shining 
On the mountain, on the grove. 

Now, too, feathered tribes are singing. 
Hymning the Almighty's praise. 

With these the hills and vales are ringing — 
All a grateful tribute raise. 

How fast the sun is disappearing 

Down behind the distant trees I 
And gentle evening comes. How cheering ! 

Nature seems to rest at ease. 

Now the light of day is fiiding, 

And distant objects disappear ; 
And now the veil of night is shading 

Every object far and near. 

As darkness winds her cloak around me. 
Hiding earthly scenes from view, 

O how the deep'ning shadows wound me. 
And departed scenes renew ! 



REFLECTIONS ON THE SETTING OF THE SUN. 101 

The scenes that now have lied forever. 

Fled into eternity — 
Will they return ? ^' O, never ! never ! " 

Answer voice of destiny 
ff 

The night of Death is drawing near us, 

With its deep and gloomy shade, 
Wh()s(5 silent vault will not revere us, 

Or bring to us consoling aid. 

Old Time is swiftly onward flying, 

None can stop and none can save ; 
All creatures born, in health or dying — 

All are marching to the grave. 

Each onward rolling day is number'd. 

Brings me nearer to my end ; 
Weeks, months and years roll unencumbered. 

Soon the grave I must descend. 

And like the sun that just was setting 

Way behind the western hills. 
So I must sink — oh ! how regretting ! 

Yield to Death's all swaying will. 

However long, O precious Jesus, 

We may have on earth to dwell, 
When this life closes, O relieve us 

From the stins^s of sin and hell. 



102 REFLECTIONS ON THE SETTING OF THE SUN. 

Though many years may pass in sorrow, 
Pm-e delight we ne'er shall find 

In this our earthly vale so narrow, 
Where must pass all human kind. 

Grant while we sail this sea of trouble, 
That propitious winds may blow, 

Freighted with faith and courage double. 
We may pass its waters through. 

O, set thy chart and lamp before me — 
All my hopes and strength caress, 

That I may reach eternal glory, 
And enjoy true happiness. 

In that fair land beyond the river, 
O, my soul from sin set free, 

From every woe and care deliver, 
Lost in heavenly joys and thee. 



LIBERTY. 103 



LIBERTY. 



Ye sires, aAvake ! ye sons, arise ! 

The land of tyranny despise ! 

Bid Freedom's mottoed banners rise, 

And wave triumphantly ; 
Let them spread from pole to pole, 
And over every ocean roll. 
Till there shall reign without control. 

One glorious Liberty. 

Let tyrants from their thrones be hurPd, 

The flag of Liberty unfurFd, 

In every clime, o'er all the world, 

And set all people free ; 
And may the day right quickly come. 
When Freedom shall be nobly won 
In every land beneath the sun, 

And over every sea. 

All hail that brave and noble few 
Who saved the ship, a sinking crew, 
AVhen freedom ahiiost sank from view, 

Oppressed by t^^ranny. 
Who did our feeble country save 
From sinking to an endless grave ; 
So wave, ye sons, her banners wave. 

And shout for li])ertv. 



104 LIBERTY. 

Go, speak it with a trumpet-horn, 
And tyrants of all nations warn 
Of that coming glorious morn 

When earth shall all be free. 
How then shall come their solemn doom, 
When all their power shall find a toml), 
And be unveiled, that glorious boon 

The boon of Liberty. 

Go, and that joyful sound proclaim. 

Attended by Columbia's name, 

Rolled on the sounding wheels of fame. 

In God-like majesty; 
Till every nation, near and far, 
Shall hear, and looking to her star, 
Oppression from her bounds debar. 

And welcome Liberty. 

Till every land and every clime. 
Feeling that influence all divine. 
Shall in the future years of time 

Be nobly bless'd and free ; 
Then tyrants from their thrones shall fall, 
And kings obey at Freedom's call. 
And in each soul, and over all, 

Shall reign blessed Liberty. 



INDEPENDENCE DAY. 105 



INDEPENDENCE DAY. 



All hail this glad day of the year with great glory, 
On \vhich our brave country declared herself free, 

In siglit of dread War, all haggard and gory. 
And a foe that was proud, and stronger than she ; 

O shout and proclaim it, ye nations around. 

For worthy of praise she has ever been found. 

Tell how she arose to be a great nation. 
By driving her strong-banded foes o'er the sea, 

And building upon the unyielding foundation 
Of Wisdom and Virtue, and bless'd Liberty; 

shout and proclaim it through earth all around. 

For worthy of praise she has ever been found. 

O tell how her l^anners in splendor are swelling. 
And speak with great beauty her noble free birth, 

In grandeur exalted, all others excelling. 
That stretch their dominions abroad through the earth ; 

O shout and proclaim it, ye nations around. 

For w^orthy of praise she has ever been found. 

Say, too. that her vessels now proudly are sailing 
O'er every known ocean, upborne by the wave, 

While kingdoms and empires all ever are hailing 
The flag of the noble, the free and the brave ; 



106 INDEPENDENCE DAY. 

Go you all, ye nations, proclaim the glad sound, 
For just are her precepts, and Freedom's her bounds. 

Tell how in her greatness she 's daily increasing, 
And angels of heaven are pleading her cause, 

While all languages speak her praises unceasing, 
And waft her fair name on the wings of applause ; 

O shout and proclaim her increasing renown. 

For worthy of praise she has ever been found. 

Yes, now in rare beauty she fondly is shining, 
Already well conscious of her far-spreading fame, 

While nearly all nations around are repining, 
Beneath their own tyrants' despotical chain ; 

But safety in her for years may be found. 

If pride and vain glory do not sink her down. 

But what though our pathway seems winding before us 
All strown with fair garlands and beautiful flowers. 

And heaven, star-spangled, seems now bending o'er us, 
Beguiling with smiles the by-gliding hours ; 

How soon all would vanish, should Providence frown. 

Her prospects would wither, and crumble, her crown. 

O, then, may we pray to the God of the nations 
To shield her fair shore with Liberty's wing, 

That Virtue and Wisdom may guard her foundations* 
And blessings of peace and prosperity bring ; 

And be it proclaimed through earth all around, 

That God is her refuge, and Faith is her crown. 



ON THE author's TWENTY-FIRST BIRTH-DAY. lOT 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE AUTHOR'S TWENTY- 
FIRST BIRTH-DAY. 



Mysterious Providence, whose matchless hand 
Sways times and fates at thy all- wise command, 
How dost thou whirl the rapid wheels of time 
To strangely fill some great, unknown design ; 
Days come, weeks go, months fly, years pass away 
Men live, flourish, die, molder and decay — 
Still unrelenting roll the wheels of time. 
Right onward roll, majestic and sublime. 

How short the time since I began my course 
On Time's unmeasured and unbounded source. 
And yet so swift has roll'd her wheels in truth, 
As to have swept me past the bounds of youth, 
Measured my infant momeftts in a span. 
Rushed by childhood, and number'd me a man. 

Helpless I'm thrown upon her stormy waves, 
Doom'd to reach an endless and a silent grave : 
The voyage is short, the day must quickly come 
When I must sink as sinks the setting sun. 
But not like him ao^ain to orlorious rise, 
Beneath mortality's unpeaceful skies, 
But rather dive in death's dark, slumbering sea, 
To rise again in wide eternity. 



108 ON THE author's TWENTY-FIRST BIRTH-DAY. 

There, burnish'd with the Master's love, to shine 
Through endless cycles of all-coming time. 
Or banish'd from the presence of his power, 
Wade through the gloom of that eternal hour. 

Such as a life on earth I shall have led 

In virtue's ways or sin's dark paths have tread. 

This shall pronounce my future, final doom, 

To in his presence dwell where pleasures bloom. 

Or in the absence of his power, where all is night. 

And banish'd every ray of holy light. 

For, as from him came all these god-like powers, 
And all we are is his, and naught is ours, 
This thinking mind and deathless soul to save 
Beyond the confines of the mould'ring grave. 
We must by justice serve his right'ous will, 
Or fail to save, if ftiiling to fulfill. 

And now, great God, on thee in faith I call 

To take me in your arms, lest I unguarded fall 

Into temptation's sin-alluring path. 

And blinded, find the ocean of thy wrath 

O let thy holy influence hover nigh. 

Lest storms of darkness should o'ercloud my sky. 

And dread afl[lictions which the world doth know. 

Bring in their train, their curses and their woe. 

O let thy heavenly influence be my guide 

As I launch forth on manhood's boisterous tide. 

And steer my course in ways by Thee design'd — 

Prove me a benefactor to mankind, 



ON THE author's TWENTY-FIRST BIRTH-DAY. 109 

And it one creature, I hiive led tistray, 
In paths secluded from fair Virtue's >vay, 
Forgive nie, Lord — that creature, O reclaim. 
And wash liis heart from sin and every stain. 
Though such an act by justice I should rue, 
But, O ! forgive (thou holy, just and true). 
And visit not its consequences on me, 
Lest I be lost to happiness and Thee ; 
And raise my feet above this dangerous plane. 
And be it mine, a better thing to gain. 

O lift the veil of darkness from my face, 

That I may see the goodness of thy grace, 

And from all sin and wickedness abstain, 

And walk in paths where Truth and Virtue reign. 

And let thy lamp of Wisdom on me shine. 

Diffusing light and knowledge in my mind, 

Till groveling ignorance be chased away, 

And lives the inner man in Wisdom's day, 

Whose light shall fill the floodgates of the soul, 

Till doubts subside and mysteries unfold. 

And every cloud be lifted from my heaven. 

From whence thy smiles descend and love is given ; 

And sweet communion with those powers divine. 

Be ever present with me, ever mine. 



110 THE THREE LOVERS. 



THE THREE LOVERS, OR DECEIT REVENGED. 



A lady once, both brisk and gay, 
Triumphant lived, as I may say, 
Or thought at least, (you understand,) 
That with the wave of her fair hand. 
With artful looks and wits refin'd, 
With winning ways and looks combined, 
Might gain with ease whose ever heart. 
She felt disposed to take a part. 

And she — indeed, I must confess — 

Did most uncommon powers possess ; 

Nor think me partial if I own 

Her speech was sweet, her words, high flown, 

With pleasing mein, and air refined. 

With sparkling eyes and gorgeous mind, 

And gifts indeed that's very rare 

You '11 find bestowed upon the fair ; 

And beauty too that's seldom known. 

In every look refulgent shone. 

And who, though strong with reason's arms. 

Could war with such resistless charms ? 

Or who could weakest means devise. 

To brook such language of the eyes ? 

Or who could offer self-defense 

Against such beauty, crown'd with sense ? 



THE TUUEE LOVERS. Ill 

Need 1 ask t and ask in vain ? 

My story will itself explain, . 

For ne'er a hero was renown'd. 

For whom a match could not be found, 

And every king who has arose. 

Has had his subjects and his foes ; 

And whether peaceful or at war, 

Every nation, near and far, 

Recorded in the book of Time, 

Has had its rise and its decline ; 

So beauties, measures have, and bounds. 

And to themselves return their wounds ; 

However full of charms to day, 

To-morrow blights them with decay. 

And they are left to grieve and mourn. 

For selves of all allurements shorne. 

For hearts they 've sought, yet still unwon. 

For deeds they 've plan'd, yet still undone ; 

And torments rankle deep within, 

Such as are left in trj^.ks of sin. 

But why attempt I to relate, 

What fortune has assigned to fate % 

Nature and reason both infer 

That such things will, and must occur. 

Then to my story : This fair maid. 
With such bewitching charms array'd, 
Admirers drew from every side. 
On whom she look'd with conscious pride ; 
And 'mong the multitude there came 



112 THE THREE LOVERS. 

A noble youth, a stately swain, 
With manners polish'd and refin'd, 
Wi h grateful heart and gen'rous mind, 
And looks, that told beyond control. 
The inner, was a noble soul. 

And need I say that long they strove 
Before they both fell deep in love ? 
Ah, no ; and then what glances sly 
Were re-exchanged from eye to eye. 
With such warm assiduous dart. 
That struck like daggers to the heart, 
Waking feelings strange and wild. 
Restless, vain, unreconcil'd , 
Thrilling sweet and transient pain, 
Arise, now, then sinks again. 
Such as no creature can surmise. 
Save him whom trial makes more wise. 



But these appear to rie most strange 
That real things should prove so vain ; 
And love expressed by vows and sighs, 
Though real, often prove but lies ; 
For Cupid's sly and quiv'ring dart 
Too often wounds the fickle heart. 
Time draws the shaft with little pain, 
And the small scar bears friendship's nnme. 

But ere I wander from my theme 
Let me picture one fair scene, 



THE TIIKEE LOVERS. 

The meeting, where these two disclosed 
Each warm emotion, which repos'd 
In either breast, by love entwin'd — 
Our hero's, and our heroine's. 

And now conceive, you lovers fair, 

Seated alone this lovely pair ; 

First, one warm glance from eye to eye, 

Wakes in each breast a heart-heav'd sigh ; 

When soon our nero thus began : 

" I swear by all that mortal man 

Has ever dared to swear, before. 

That you I love and do adore 

Above all others 'neath the sun. 

That 1 have seen since life begun ; 

And if your breast with such could burn 

For me, or give a warm return, 

A happier creature, never trod 

This little footstool of our God ; 

But if I 'm doom'd to meet your scorn. 

The world will prove as quite forlorn." 

*'0, cast aside all fear," said she, 
"I Ve ever loved and cherished thee ; 
It has been mine, to much admire 
Your many gifts and neat attire ; 
And mix'd therewith was a strange fire 
I strove to quench — yet all in vain ; 
I could not stop the rising flame 
That shed a hallow'd light on you 
And made you perfect ; lalse or true. 
H 5* 



113 



114 • THE THREE LOVERS. 

If talse, to every joy, adieu ; 
But, O, I pray thee, prove thee true, 
And Venus grant one boon to give, 
That we may for each other live." 

These two each other, thus address'd 
And thus, their feelings warm expressed. 
But this brings up the question. Why 
Such vows as these should speak the lie ? 

But Fortune has such fate assigned 
Oft to the lot of human kind, 
And oft like rainbows, pleasures smile 
Upon the storm, dark, deep and wild ! 
And oft when hope sweet joys reveals. 
Fortune adversely rolls her wheels. 
And disappointments bring instead. 
To sigh in sorrow 'round our heads ; 
Such was the fate of this fam'd pair. 
And such, their castles, built in air. 

A youth, whose time had much been spent, 
(Whose object was by effort bent). 
To learn to judge the heart and mind. 
By looks and actions of mankind, 
This beauty saw, and with surprise 
Kead the rich language of her eyes ; 
And through her mien and manners stole 
Into the secrets of her soul ; 
And while she yet was unaware, 
Kead her true disposition there ; 



THE THREE LOVERS. 115 

Then her approach'd and cahnly said : 

' ' There's something rests in thee, fair maid, 

That warms my breast with that strange fire 

Which bids my unpledged lieart admire. 

Say, could I place my hopes in thee 

If such should prove sincerity ? " 

" There's room for hope,'' the maid replied. 
Then warmly pressVl his hand, and sighed ; 
"With the same feeling I 've admir'd 
Your graceful ways and mien retir'd. 
And now to learn that I'm your choice, 
Have I not reason to rejoice ? " 

To this the youth gave no reply. 
But deeper read in her dark eye 
A disposition stranger still, 
A stranger mind, and stranger will. 
Than he had thought her to possess, 
By tirst appearance and address. 

Amazed he was indeed to find 
Such vanity and sense combined ; 
But she, alike possessed the art 
By looks to judge the human heart ; 
And with one scrutinizino^ ffaze. 
Saw his deep thoughts ; and in a maze 
Most wildly cast herself away. 
Exclaiming thus in wild dismay : 
"Begone I begone ! thou critic, muse. 
Do not my heart and mind peruse ; 



116 THE THREE LOVERS. 

I might have known your wondrous skill 
By acts to judge the inward will. 
When I first saw your searching eye, 
That seemed to pierce each mystery." 

To which the muse thus soon replied : 
^' In nature's walks extended wide, 
Of human haunts, of pomp and pride, 
Though nearly all are somewhat vain, 
Yet vanities, by you contained, 
Surpass all others of the kind 
That I have yet been led to find. 
It gives me grief and pain to see 
A mind so rich and heart so free, 
Mix'd with that vain, inconstant fire. 
That lights in thee such strange desire. 
Could I behold your motives pure, 
Your mind could fail not to secure 
The warm applause of every tongue. 
Of both the aged and the young.'' 

He ceased, and both in silence part, 
With a cold bow and guarded heart. 
And from appearance, it was plain. 
Both gave it up as a bad game. 

And now, this muser, and this youth 
Were constant friends, and in all truth 
Each other's welfare ever sought, 
Exchanging sentiment and thought ; 
The one, excelled in 'fairs of state, 
The other, judging human fate 



THE THREE LOVERS. 117 

It chanced, soon after, as 'tis known, 
That these two heroes met alone, 
And passing first a lively joke, 
The latter, thus his mind bespoke ; 
" If you can read by acts and mien 
The human heart and mind unseen. 
Show me the inner soul and mind, 
And disposition of what kind, 
Of her with wdiom Miss Rumor says 
I have designed to spend ni}^ days." 

He spake and him inquiring eyed. 
To which, this earnest muse, replied : 
"A stranger one I've never found 
In all community around ; 
A mind so rich and nol)ly train'd, 
^Lccompiiied with a heart so vain — 
The one, to lofty thoughts aspires. 
The other, stoops to low desires ; 
Her object chief has ever been 
To captive lead the hearts of men. 
And to accomplish this, her time 
And energies are spent, to find 
What strings control the heart and mind 
And what, our strong affections bind. 
And half a dozen now she holds 
Beneath her potent eye's control ; 
And I myself, (though you may smile,) 
Scarcely escaped her artful wiles, 
So cunning laid the secret snare, 
I was entrapp'd, although aware ! 



118 THE THREE LOVERS. 

And now to put men's hearts in plight 
Is her chief object and delight ; 
This her main study and her aim. 
And in her toils is costly game." 

'' Is that so? " replied the youth •, 

" And does she pride herself, in truth, 

To captive lead men's hearts astray. 

And the fine feelings thus betray. 

By flattering words and winning wiles, 

And mellow looks and artful smiles i '' 

"'Tis even so," the muse replied ; 
"And there are two who have been tried. 
And with their confidence betray'd, 
The same as you look on that maid ; 
Each thinks himself her only trust, 
But soon each suit will be nonpross'd. " 

He pointed him to two young men 
Who then was fast approaching them. 
And who came up, and thus began : 
" What is the counsel, what the plan. 
In which you seem so much engrossed. 
As though your all, was won, or lost?" 

*''Tis something, sirs, of deep concern," 
Responds the muse, ''as you will learn. 
And something, too, concerning thee — 
And him — and him, to plainer be — 
But, let me hold, I am too free. 



THE THREE LOVERS. 119 

You've sought no counselor in me.'' 

" Speak on, speak on ; stop, stop not here ; 

Proceed — we anxious wait to hear/' 

'' Then if I must, I say, 'Beware I ' 
Yon three are in the self-same snare ; 
The which has artfully been laid, 
By the designs of one fair maid ; 
And blindly now you're led along. 
All unmistrustful of the wrong ; 
But now at once unveil your eyes, 
And view her projects and be wise. 
Alike this mystery unfold ; 
Be wide awake, precise and bold, 
And just accomplish, this intent, 
To give as good, as has been sent." 

*' Indeed ! " one of these two replies, 
'' Let not these useless rumors rise ; 
The story is already told. 
And I will not my claim withhold : 
By me her heart alone is ruPd, 
And you have been completely fool'd. 
And would I lose so rich a prize 
Because she's chanc'd to fool the wnse i 
Nay, on this charmer I rely. 
And your endeavors I defy ; 
My part and lot is fixed and sure, 
And she in me now rests secure. 
One week from yesterday, you'll see, 
We're married at the hour of three. 



120 THE THREE LOVERS. 

And she becomes the loving bride — " 
The other, interrupting, cried, 
Excitedly, "Hold ! hold, I pray ! 
One week from yesterday, you say ( — 
In fact upon that self-same day 
I'm pledged to give my heart and hand 
With her's in Hymen's holy band ; 
And I'm in preference, too, to you. 
For my appointments stands at two. " 

" By heaven ! " our youth in wrath exclaim'd, 

" By such presumption what is gain'd 'i 

['11 have revenge ; cursed be the charm, 

That, with a vain, yet potent arm. 

My feelings captive led astray. 

And them to mockVv made a prey ; 

For on that day A. M. at nine. 

She has vowed she would be mine ; 

And though my hour is first of all. 

Yet acts like these my heart appall. 

Yes, I've admired her charming face, 

With a thousand beauties graced. 

But sacred things thus sacrificed, 

By me as deeply are despised ; 

My injured feelings ever proud. 

Call for vengeance, long and loud. " 

"And so do mine.'' the one replies ; 
"My heart is full, and blind my eyes 
For sighs that burden every breath, 
And tears that burn my soul to death. " 



THE THREE LOVERS. 121 

^^ We seek revenge ! " the three exclaim, 
''And heaven aid us in our aim ! '' 

To which, the muse : " Attention lend. 
And hear the counsel of a friend. 
If for revenge your bosoms burn. 
Contentions, strife forever spurn ; 
But on th' appointed nuptial day, 
Throw all your promises away. 
And go not near this artful maid. 
And she will be redoubly paid. 
And in repentance ever sigh. 
That heartless, thus she vow'd the lie. " 

'' Agreed I agreed ! *' they all respond, 
Politely bow, and then are gone. 

Old Time still swiftly rolling on, 
The promised nuptial morning dawn'd ; 
The hours passed by, but no one came 
To meet this beauty, wise and vain ; 
Long she look'd, but look'd in vain. 
Again the day in sober vest 
Sank her bright chariot in the west. 
And Evening spread abroad on high 
Her star-bespangled azure sky. 
The night wore on, inviting sleep 
To those, who nature's vigil's keep ; 
This maid retired, but far from rest — 
A thousand cares distract her breast, 
And judged too truly, T may say, 



122 WHERE SHALL WE FIND REPOSE I 

Why they were absent on that day. 
And the next morning, felt aware 
That all her projects were left bare. 
And sickening, too, to find it so, 
Left the city, you may know. 
To visit with some country friends, 
And to her health thus make amends, 
By breathing fresh and purer air, 
But none aorain beheld her there. 



WHERE SHALL WE FIND REPOSE? 



AN ACROSTIC. 



Where shall we mortals find repose from weary cares 
Amid this toilsome life, beset with hidden snares ? 
Sad disappointments rise, which burst in fearful wrath. 
High-handed, henious wrongs, thread thick our every 

path ; 
In every bud of hope lurks many a secret thorn. 
No rosy days of promise dawn, secure from storm. 
Gilded all by the sunshine from our youth, appears 
The all-inspiring prospect of our future years. 
"On flowery beds of ease," the path seems stretch 'd 

away. 
Nor bud, nor leaf, nor bloom, seems blighted with decay. 



WHERE SHALL WE FIND REPOSE ? 12& 

All over and around are seeniini>* joys and new, 
Lo, how " the distance lends enchantments to the view.'" 
Vested with seeming joys is the prospective way ; 
Onward it seems to lead up to the gates of day, 
Renew'd with healthful life without decay, 
Delightful hopes and prospects, making all thmgs gay. 

Enter upon the field — and, lo ! how changed the scene T 
Now Disappointments frown where smiled our fondest 

dre.ani ; 
Great frozen drops of grief, in storms, come rattling 

down 
Least when expected — vivid lightning leaps around. 
Even fair Hope looks frightened, falling to the ground. 

Almighty God, amid such scenes we live and die — 
Unto Thy arms of love for safety we must fly ; 
To these, all helpless, worn and wearied. Lord, we come. 
Humbled and bleeding ; from these storms receive us 

home — 
On Thy bless'd promises confidingly we lean. 
Resting assured in faith — and here we fondh^ dream. 



124 MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 



MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 



" There is a tide in the affairs of womeu, 

Which, taken at its flood, leads " —God knows where; 
Those navigators must be able seamen 

Whose charts lay down its currents to a hair ; 
Not all the reverses of .Jacob Beaman 

With their strange whirls and eddies can compare ; 
Men, with their heads, reflect on this and that, 

But women, with their hearts, on — heaven knows what ! 

— Byron. 

Gould Fancy, endued with a wonderful art. 

By culture enrichVl and refined, 
Depict half the queries of a frail woman^s heart, 

What a gem it would be to the mind ! 



Every poet and sage howe'er gifted and bright, 

Has confessed how vain is his skill 
To imagine, much less than unfold to the light. 

One tenth of a feminine will. 

And perhaps it is well, for could man with a glance 

Survey the dark mystery within, 
With rock and iceberg-bound shores, where wild fairies 
dance 

On steeps that would make the brain swim ; 



MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 125 

Where shrill shrieks the cold winds, and loud clamors 
the crow, 

Or pierces a keen, biting frost. 
Or a storm in the heavens — of what who can know ? 

There darkens, till hope's light is lost ; 

Where the breezes of summer, most gentle and fair, 

Which blossom the roses of hope, 
May turn northward so quick as to snap off a hair. 

And winter, wild winter, have scope. 

I say, could man with a glance these dangers foresee. 
Think you he would trust his life's barque 

On such a wild sea of chance and of changes, lest he 
Should be fed to a monster mouth'd shark ; 

And the merciless queen of this sea, and his all, 
Deem the meal for the pet of her bosom too small. 
And since his pains and his pleasures to her are but play^ 
She would serve up another — in about the same way; 
Or first warm him, then freeze him, then tear out his 

heart 
To make out a meal for this monster, her art. 
To which every thing else in her bosom refin'd. 
Must bow and be sacrificed of soul and of mind. 

But, hold on here, let's see, this last stanza don't chime ; 
But where tunes change so much, I might as well change 

my rhyme, 
For my subject 's a queer one, ever veering in course. 
And constantly changing, or something that's worse, 
And if vou would follow its circuitous route. 



126 MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 

And not go astray, keep on a constant lookout — 
For brambles, for hedges, for deep marshes and ditches, 
For all these you will find in the breast of these witches, 
These sweet angels, with bright eyes, smooth tongues, 

and fair faces, 
Each adorned Avith a thousand and one gentle graces; 
When you think all is fair, to bother and vex you. 
First, your feet to ensnare, and after, perplex you. 

But there are, it is said (in woman's aflections), 
Fields, landscapes and gardens of fairest complexion, 
Where Constancy blooms, and pure virtue and truth 
Wear always the smiles of perpetual youth ; 
And some, I've heard talk of, who have even found them. 
But as to myself and some others, astound them ! 
We have searched, but, alas ! have gone all around them; 
And close on the border, plucked promises given. 
Fair blossoms indeed ! which bore semblance of heaven. 
And as onward we hurried, more fair grew the way ; 
Every blossom we gathered, adorn'd a bouquet. 
A bright, lovely form ever gliding before us. 
Inviting us on, whispered, "Heaven is o'er us" ; 
But while thinking of nothing but pleasures and posies. 
All at once we are swamp'd, in the mud, to our noses. 
The lightness and smiles of that bright, lovely form 
Are changed into frowns, and soul- writhing scorns ; 
Their mistress looks sad, and sighs, sheds crocodile tears, 
Says, " Farewell forever," and then disappears. 

Our cherished bouquets are all withered and black ; 
We can not proceed, nor can we turn back — 



MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 127 

Giuiw'd are our ttices, with gniits and with tioas, 

And stung is our flesh, with hornets and bees ; 

And, when we try to brush off, these sauey intruders, 

We find, our hands have been tied, by these fair dehiders. 

And though each one may say, " I'm sorry it is so,'' 

Yet she rejoices in heart (believe me) to know 

That to her suitors' long list, she's added a beau. 

But what is most strange, how women can change^ 

For what — no mortal can guess ; 
For sense, looks, or purse, it is always for worse. 

Which, in time, she is forced to confess. 

Why one can not please, where th' other 's at ease 

Their fondest afiection to revel in. 
No one can conceive, save they Ve not the right squeeze, 

Or have not a big-enough-devil-iii. 

Or they lack in a chat or. some small this or that, 

Too trifling for one to conjecture ; 
And why puzzle my brain, at mosquitoes to strain. 

Which to number, would take a week's lecture. 

But such trivial things oft misery bring 

To both the firm man and false lady ; 
And wild sparks of desire may kindle a fire, 

That, after, can not be kept shady. 

But thrown on the straw of our Natures so raw. 

That now for ignition is ripe, 
There bursts a wild flame which Reason canH tame, 

Nor th' waters of will can requite. 



128 MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 

I once had a cousin, some ten and a dozen 

Years old — a very smart young man, 
Of true moral tone, and a mind, too, that shone 

With brightness most brilliant and grand. 

But coz had my fault (which doth seldom exalt 

One's self in the eyes of the fair). 
To want, as 'tis sung, a right voluble tongue. 

As well as a jocular air. 

Everlasting affection had some strange connection 

With his every feeling and thought, 
And he deemed that mankind, such affection would find 

Each one for himself, if he sought. 

Need I say that he paid his whole heart to a maid 

Who was judged a quite worthy she ? 
That 'neath heaven above, both had plighted their love, 

And sworn each the other's to be ? 

For their vows had been given in sight of high heaven, 

And each had exchanged a fond token, 
That if false they should prove, in word, look or love. 

Their joys, like their vows, might be broken. 

But what are such vows in fair ladies' mouths ? 

A week, or a day, may outlive them. 
And when broken, the deuce is, they have their excuses, 

And we are inclined to forgive them. 



MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 129 

Well, my coz, like a fool, sent his girl otf to school, 

Some sixty or more miles from home, 
Her heart to refine and enlighten her mind, 

Not dreaming that either might roam, 

And there you may know ('tis quite often so), she found 
a gay beau, 

Far gayer than cousin could be. 
But their minds would compare as a rope and a hair. 

And this beau's was the hair, as it should be. 

i 
But then he could bow, and could flatter and vow. 

With words gently spoken, and smile 
So softly — what sin ! Coz ne'er could begin 

To practice such heart-winning wile. 

He could joke, and could sigh, and could glance with 
the eye, 
Conduct himself easy and neatly. 
And besides, now and then, he would speak -her name, 
''Gen," 
So warmly, so mildly, and sweetly ! 

What could she ! Heaven above ! — then fall square in 
love 

With him who could fondle and flatter, 
Though she very well knew, cous ever was true, 

And deeply would grieve — yet — no matter. 

Time rolling onward, the maid returned homeward, 
I think, at the end of a year, 
I 



130 MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 

But me ! how much changed ! her heart how estranged 
From the one she once cherished so dear. 

She meets him quite boldly, and thus she says (coldly) : 
' ' I thank you for favors you've shown me, 

But God knows above thee, I never can love thee. 
And you are too worthy to own me." 

Such words rashly spoken, when such vows are broken, 
strange feelings betoken ; 

Poor coz ! how it swoon'd his whole life 
For one woman's folly, he became melancholy. 

And she, a most miserable wife. 

Such as these are but few of the follies we view 
In woman's frail breast ; some of these never rest 

For a heart, or hearts, true, be they many or few, 
But ever seek new, for others to.?sue ; 

And whose proudest hour is, when they feel they have 

power 
To heal or to wound the fools they have found — 
All the world could not fill such a vain, restless will. 

I once knew a beauty, who had great sense of duty. 

And would frequently talk about how we should walk ; 

Dear soul, I can't say in what sacred way 

She guided her feet — she spurned all deceit. 

And never would cheat, or one wrongly treat ; 

At least she said so, and of course she would know, 

And then who would break, or a vow falsely make. 



MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 131 

Or deceive one's affection, iiad a soul, whose complexion 
Was too black for inspection, and deserved deep dejection. 
She could boast of eleven, who had sworn before heaven 
That their hearts she had won, and were ever undone. 
Save from her, they the same, at the altar could claim ; 
Which to none she could give — each vow'd while he 

lived 
(All hope being fled) none one else would he wed. 

But what ffrieved her ? Even now some had broken that 

VOW 

And deceived her — all were married save two. Why 

should they so do ? 
Since such vows were broken, she 'd no faith in love's 

token. 

And I presume now to say, that each year, if not day, 
Brings her cardiac wealth — mine no doubt was the 

twelfth. 
And since she 's made out (I've heard 'round about 
By the way of a cousin) a full beggar's dozen. 

MORAL. 

To such we would say : ' ' All beauties decay, 
Youth hastens away, O make no delay. 
But at the next offer, whoever may proffer. 
(At least if he be quite worthy of thee. 
And such you will find, ten times out of nine,) 
Give your heart, if you can, and with it your hand, 
And not ever be thinking with glee, "there are fish in 
the sea 



132 MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 

Far better than he, and why not for me ? " 

Time very soon, for your roses in bloom, will cradle a 

tomb, 
And then you may wait, and sweeten your bait. 
And smiling, invite, none hardly will bite, 
And vain you will wish to take in that fish, 
By hook, spear, or net ; but that fish you can not get ; 
Till tired, at length, and exhausted your, strength. 
You will take in an eel, all slippery to feel. 
And snaky in form, concluding " 'tis vain to fish in a 

storm." 



RETURN TO THE SCENES OF ACADEMIC DAYS. 133 



LINES WRITTEN ON A RETURN OF THE AU- 
THOR TO THE SCENES OF HIS ACADEMIC 
DAYS. 



I returned to the scenes of Old Alfred once more, 

And greeted the young and the fair. 
Who had traversal those halls with nie oft before — 

But, Sarah — no Sarah was there. 

As I gazed on the throng there assembled at morn, 

Fai^iliarly some seemed to smile, 
But at home, in my bosom, the whole seemed forlorn, 

For Sarah was absent the while. 

And I thought yet while gazing, "Oh, where is that 
face 

On which these, mine eyes, lov'd to dwell " — 
I looked down in my heart — I discovered its trace 

Inscribed there too deep and too well. 

But now Sarah is gone, and within my lone breast 

Her image but causes a pain. 
Though in all its perfection it can but distress 

To think that we meet not again. 

But although, cherished girl, we shall meet never more. 
This side of the cold, silent grave, 



134 RETURN TO THE SCENES OF ACADEMIC DAYS. 

Though another must shield you, I can but adore — 
To feeling and you be a slave. 

Our spirits immortal communion will hold, 

Though oceans divide you and me, 
And deep down in the innermost rooms of the soul, 

Talk over the things that might be. 

But how strange is the portion of all human kind I 

And stranger the workings of soul, 
Our affections the strangest, and foolishly l)lind. 

And o'er them we have no control. 

When I felt in my bosom your increasing claim, 
How vainly I strove to allay ! % 

But my every endeavor gave fuel to flame, 
'Till now it out-dazzles the day. 

The sweet sounds of your voice ir my mem'ry still live, 

Your every expression is there ; 
If I now could erase them — what would I not orive I 

They scourge me with biting despair. 

But, adieu, fond deceiver ! Farewell ! and for aye — 

O how I do linger around. 
And still cling to your image, which keeps me at bay. 

And charms, but my feelings to wound. 



LINES WRITTEN TO WIFE. 135 



LINES WRITTEN TO WIFE. 



Dear companion, our love was not of romance, 
Or of fancy, to youth so often a dream ; 

'TAvas not born of a sigh, a smile or a glance, 

But kindness of years sheds its light on the scene. 

The trials of life have swept and refined it. 

And cleansed it from grossness, and passion's wild 
flame. 

The most tender ties envelop and bind it, 
A volume, too sacred, too full for a name. 

This volume none others but we care to read, 
To us every line, every word, is most dear, 

And tell to us each what the other doth need. 
And how to make lighter life's burden of care. 

We are journeying on together, dear wife. 

To meet high resolves and responsible claims, 
To fill the demands of a well ordered life. 

With noble resolves and far-reaching aims. 

But soon, very soon, and our record is made, 

And snapped those attachments that bind you and me. 

For soon ruthless Time, with his merciless blade. 
Will cut down, of blessings Life's thick-bearing tree. 

0* 



136 A DREAM. 

And when in our times we pass o'er the river, 
May our feelings be one on that bhssful shore, 

And drinking in glory from the hand the giver, 
Eternally blessed, may we love evermore. 



A DREAM. 



I had a dream, last night, so strange and droll. 
It left a deathless impress on the soul. 
And made me wish, though wishing I did weep. 
If such were dreams, that life were all a sleep. 

Methought this aching form of mine was dead. 
And in a coffin laid ; with gentle tread 
You cam(^. that way, and knelt beside my head. 
And kissed my brow, and, weeping, said : 
*• How cold ! Dear Washington, how can it be, 
I lov'd you not who thus could die for me ? " 
And then you sigh'd. and then you wept anew. 
And showers of tears, clear as the crystal dew 
Shook from the morning rose, fell in my face ; 
It felt them not ; for, lock'd in Death's embrace. 
Its eyes were clos'd, its lips forever seal'd, 
And icy chains that now still heart had steeFd, 
Which once devotedly had beat for you. 
Through every change, forever, ever true. 



A DREAM. 137 

My deiithless spirit, all unseen, stood by. 
And gazed into your anxious mien and eye. 
And wonder'd, where the one you lov'd could be ; 
T looked around, but none such could I see — 
You stood alone — nothing save you were near — 
Alone you sigh'd, alone let drop the tear. 



Then with yoiu- hand you pressed those cheeks of clay, 

Then, with a cloth of snow, you wiped away 

The tears that you upon that face had shed. 

And then again you stoop'd, and kiss'd the dead 

Thrice o'er, and sigh'd, '' Alas, how can it be ^ " 

My soul by deep compassion movM for thee, 

Unfelt, unseen, now clasp'd your long-loved form. 

And from your lips a thousand kisses warm 

I snatch'd m eager haste. O, svveets untold I 

I seem'd to drink the essence of your soul, 

And in return pour'd floods of feeling there. 

Which serv'd as oil to sooth the waves of care 

That surg'd within your breast. My soul met thine, 

And with it fondly, sweetly did entwine ; 

Pure love from each into the other stole. 

Each soul entwinino^, and soul blessinof soul. 

Your face grew tranquil, more than usual fair, 

And sweet Enjoyment stamp\i its image there. 

Methought, "This is delight, pure bliss we share. 

An answer to iny oft repeted prayer. 

That you might love me with pure tenderness, 

And it be ours to make each other bless VI." 



138 A DREAM. 

Long while in mutual love our souls embrace — 
Bliss filFd us both, and in your tranquil face 
Hung out its banner ; and I, too, could see 
True love's inscription written there for me. 

At length your absent thoughts came wandering home. 

And Consciousness again resum'd its throne. 

SurprisVl, you started — first, your lips met those 

That now in death had found their last repose ; 

And then, as though the angels had approv'd, 

(So soft, so light, so silently, you mov'd,) 

You hurried from the spot. My spirit free. 

Could nothing else, but watch and follow thee. 

You, swiftly walking, dash'd the crystal dew. 

From oflf the grass that in your pathway grew. 

While every drop appeared a jewel true. 

Shook from your feet, which, falling, -rou^id you threw 

A rainbow in its bright and varied hue. 

At length you to a beauteous garden came. 
Where flowers grew of every sort and name ; 
In perfect taste and elegance array 'd. 
It seem'd an Eden, you, the Eve-like maid ; 
And could such fragrance earth afford as there 
Went up, with sweets embalmiag all the air ? 

You look'd about with well observing powers, 
Then pluck'd from choicest beds, the choicest flowers; 
And with those fingers I once fondly press'd. 
You wove them into wreaths with myrtle dressM 
In that exquisite taste that first for you 



A DREAM. 139 

My close attention, then, affection drew ; 

That deep affection, nature gave to me, 

AYhich, unrequited, proved my misery, 

And led me down to death ; and then retraced 

Your steps, to wliere your lips, cold lips embraced — 

And there, upon that shrouded bosom — aye. 

Upon that breast that once for you did pray, 

^Vhere changeless love had held its potent sway. 

And ruled my thoughts and feelings night and day. 

Till it became a lifeless clod of clay, — 

This wreath of flowers in tenderness you lay, 

And then this blessing breathVl : ''Sweet be thy rest* 

Sweet as these flowers, which now adorn thy breast. 

As pure and bright, thy spirit ever be, 

Dear Washington, and soon, I follow thee. " 

And now the tear stood trembling in your eye, 
Your gaze was fix'd upon the deep blue sky 
As if beholding angels there, and I 
Could hear your happy spirit sweetly sigh — 
See it departing, in your heavenly mien ; 
When I awake to sorrow, from a dream. 



140 A MISCELLANY, 



A MISCELLANY. 



As when the rosy hand of morning light 

Unfolds the curtain of a summer nisfht. 

And golden clouds float in the liquid blue, 

As guardian spirits, weeping crystal dew ; 

And ocean, lake, and land, and flowery isles, 

Lay half reveal'd, half hidden in her smiles; 

And every thing that doth these scenes adorn, 

Reflect the imao:e of the queen of morn ; 

When busy life, awakened, reappears. 

And singing birds chime music in our ears, 

And we, rejoiced, to see the daylight flow. 

Go forth to drink at pleasure's font below ; 

So you, with no less rosy hand, sweet girl. 

Drew back the curtain from my future world; 

Bade golden clouds of promise, hope and love. 

As guardian spirits hover from above ; 

And seas of beauty, deckVl with l)looming isles, 

Spread out in future, basking in your smiles; 

Bade Pleasure's flowers my fields and walks adorn. 

With breathing beauties, brighten'd by your form; 

Kindled anew the light of life in me. 

My bosom bird bade sins: a sonir of orlee. 

To find his mate, he thought forever flown, 

Again return'd to call herself his own ; 

And I, rejoic'd — not by the morn-lit skies, 

But looks of love, fresh beaming from your eyes. 



A LETTER OF EARLY MANHOOD. 141 



A LETTER. OF EARLY MANHOOD 

IN ACADEMIC DAYS TO A LADY WHO WAS ABOUT TO 
GRADUATE IN THE SAME CLASS WITH THE AUTHOR. 



I snatch a moment from life's crowded tide, 
To show a secret which this bosom hides. 
To you, the authoress; and who doth share 
In me an interest, I now declare. 

Within the inmost recess of my soul 
There is a secret place, which dost hold ; 
And though the storms of life do war around. 
Yet still within, your image fix'd is found. 
By it most strange emotions I am taught — 
It rides reflected on each rising thought. 
Is mirror'd and remirror'd in a thousand ways. 
And each reflection whispers forth your praise. 

Since, then, thou art within this inner man 

So sacredly enshrined — the thought, "How can, 

How can I dissemble it from thee," 

Time after time intrudes itself on me. 

The more I strive, and longer to conceal. 

The more alive, and stronger the appeal, 

Till tired of war, I yield to its control. 

And show to you, your image in my soul ; 



142 A LETTER OF EARLY MANHOOD. 

And while you view, dear girl, O gently deal 
Life's strings are here, life's destiny you seal. 

I leave these scienced halls and valleys green, 
And rugged mountain sides for other scenes ; 
You, too, to still more distant lands will go, 
To where the briny waves of ocean flow ; 
And shall we ever meet again, or no ? 

O, in some simple, full-of-meaning way. 
In your reply to this, say that we may ; 
And it be heaven's, to lend its aid to thee. 
And thine, to build a lively hope in me. 



ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN. 143 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A 
YOUNG MAN, 

DIED WHILE IN THE ARMY OF THE UPPER POTOMAC, 
FEBRUARY 22, A. D. 1862. 



Silent across the tide of busy life, 

Came the sad tidings : ^^ Died the young and brave. 

The promising ; not in the hostile strife, 

But by disease, from which no skill could save.'' 

What ! dead ! How strange ! that that lov'd form and 

face. 
That manly brow, and intellectual eye. 
All beaming with intelligence and grace. 
Now in the narrow grave should senseless lie ! 
Ah, that a flower so fair, so soon should droop and die. 

This youth, by all who knew him, was admired ; 
He had the moral force, the strength, the mind; 
And when his country's trials came, he, fired 
With patriotic zeal, left all behind — 
Friends, brothers, parents, home, and all so dear 
To noble souls — and thoughtful went his way 
To join the tented field, willing to bear 
And suffer all that in his power lay. 
If only the rebellion could be swept away. 

No doubt, like other youths, his hopes were high ; 
For who has not built castles in the air, 



144 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN. 

Transient as summer smibeams on the sky, 
And dream 'd fond dreams, of life devoid of care. 
Which in maturer years, vanish'd like dew ? 
If sucii were his, we vouch that they were pure. 
And were to him what like dreams are to few, — 
A holy fire, to prompt him to endure 
And labor for the right — for Freedom's sake, and yours, 

His motives being pure, his hopes were high, 
His dreams of happiness, as bright and fair 
As sun-kiss'd clouds snatched from the evening sky. 
Their odor, sav'ry as the morning air 
Of gentle May, perfumed with dews and flowers; 
And guileless as the rainbow tints they bear. 
By the first sunshine's touch of morning hour : 
And such his pictur'd castles, built in air 
With grand proportions, and adornings quaint and rare. 

His castles stood, no doubt, on martial fame — 
Of honors won, in great, glorious strife. 
And on the list of heroes saw him name 
Inscribed high up, in characters of life ; 
But all these hopes, how vain ! His short career 
Is closed for aye — his earthly race is run — 
And while we pay the tribute of a tear, 
Let us rejoice that he has nobly won 
The victory of Life — Immortal Joys to Come. 



LINES ON THP: CHRISTMAS EVE OF 18S1. 145 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 

1881. 



Hail to this Cliristinas Eve of eighty one ! 
All Adam's race, redeem'd by God's own Son I 
Hail earth's remotest millions every where. 
Where God hath smilM or heard a fervent prayer, 

From hearts uimumber'd let thanksgiving rise. 
Commingling tide with tide to reach the skies, 
And ebbing up before Jehovah's throne. 
He will observe, and all his children own. 

Hail, sacred night ! the which we yearly press 
Close to the yearning soul, memorial of the Blest ; 
Who, humbly stooping from the courts above. 
Moved by compassion pure, and heavenly love, 
By pain and sacrifice prepar'd the way. 
Whereby, who w^ould, might reach eternal day. 

From this, our standpoint, on this very night. 
Let us look out on Time's stupendous flight — 
'Way up the stream, o'er generation's dead. 
Slumbering on generations long since fled — 
O'er crowns and cities crumbl'd into dust. 
And kinofs and kinsfdoms now forever hush'd — 
Where ruins piled on ruins strew the way, 
K 7 



146 IJNES ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 1881. 

And upon these, sets grizzly, grim decay. 
Count the centuries, till the Nineteenth appears, 
And each containing its one hundred years ; 
On that far shore, behold those shepherds there, 
Watching their flocks, their treasure and their care: 
Though on each form an antique garb is worn. 
Yet in each breast a heart like ours is borne ; 
Night covers earth, and the same star-deck\l sky 
Is o'er their heads, as here doth greet our eye. 
When all at once, that sky is in a glow 
Of light Celestial — glory streams below. 
These shepherds sink to earth, abash'd with fear, 
So bright the light, they feel that God is near ; 
When, lo ! a voice, mild yet distinct and clear. 
In heaven-born accents vibrates on the ear : 
' ' Be not afraid, but calm in heart and mind. 
Glad tidings of great joy and love I find 
And bring to you and yours, and all mankind ; 
Behold this day is born of David's line. 
In David's town, a Savior, Lord Divine, 
Who is the Christ, and this shall be the sign." 

Then with triumphant shouts the heavens ring. 
And choirs angelic soon are heard to sing, 
"'Glory to God most high, and on earth. Peace 
And good will to all men " — they then cease ; 
These shepherds rise for search, no more afraid. 



Observe : close by appears a stranger star. 
And wise men, watchins:. follow from afar- 



LINES OX THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 1881. Ii7 

Till all at once, it brighter glows, and where ? 
(3'er that humble shed. Why.? Ah, God is there; 
They know, and enter — bow at the infant's feet. 
And cry, ''O God ! thy work is now complete." 

And thus the Savior came, meekly and low, 
A disregard for human pomp and show, 
This lowly, pious group, and humble born, 
Honors divine from God and heaven adorn. 

What greater gift than this could God bestow ? 
His Son, to heal our wounds and sooth our woe; 
The humble contrite heart he loves to own. 
The haughty and the proud he will bring down; 
And when by some a mission he 'd fulfill. 
He chooses for that mission, whom he will. 
Forever and for aye, the same as now. 
He doeth all things well — we can't say how. 
His instruments like him are low of birth. 
Yet with their deeds sublime, they startle earth ; 
Long is the catalogue — few we would name. 
And those, who in our time amongst us came. 

A Lincoln, at whose sudden death, a pall 
Fell at each door, and o'er the hearts of all, 
Rose step by step from life's most lowly walk. 
Trusted in God, and made not trust a mock. 
And in his country's trying needs and hour. 
Leaned on the staff of prayer to higher power. 
And when our cause seem'd dark and effort, vain. 
When mothers wept, and fathers groaned for pain, 



148 LINES ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 1881. 

When husbands gave their lives, and wives their tears. 
When faith grew small and magnified our fears ; 
And whispers were abroad, that fail we must, 
He stamp'd upon our coin. "In God we trust/' 
And soon upon the nation, broke the day : 
Freedom was bless'd — Rebellion, swept away. 

Grant, at whose very name (though short and mild), 
Secession trembled and the Union smiFd, 
Was frank and plain, he hated vain display, 
Trusted in God, and God marked out the way. 

Our much loved Garfield, who in humble way 
O'er this great people held such mighty sway, 
Whose fall in glory's hour by villain's hand, 
Stretch'd mourning as a garment o'er the land, 
And the cold world, as it had ne'er before, 
Dropp'd tears of sympathy upon our shore. 
Was humbly born, to Poverty the heir. 
Rose by industry hard, a will to dare. 
Aided by strict integrity and humble prayer. 

Thus it has been through time, and the world wide, 
God loves the meek and chastens selfish pride. 

And while, this eve, good gifts we give, and share, 
With inner feelings, tongue can not declare. 
Let's not forget the gift that God has given, 
His only Son, to show the way to heaven. 



AUTUxMN. 149 



AUTUMN. 



See, how tlie winds the form of Autumn wear. 

The woods and fields they sweep, the clouds they bear ; 

And where but yesterday, the voice of Spring 

Made hill and valley with her music ring, 

And budding plants and flowers along the way, 

Bade rise, and to her coming homage pay, 

While from the bounties of her genial hand 

Were strown green robes and garlands o'er the land, 

And from her zephyrVl breath came sweet perfume 

Of smiling blossoms 'waken'd into bloom ; 

Now, comes Decay, and. with an angry frown. 

He swings his scythe and mows those garlands down; 

Where then sweet scented zephyrs as they pass'd, 

Breathed gentleness and love, the Northern Blast 

Now whistles dreary bleakness o'er the plain. 

And moan in o^ forests tell his o^loomv reio:n; 

And where sweet dews refreshed each plant and flower, 

Now keen-edged Frost, swoops down with mighty power. 

Lays low and blanches out each verdant hue 

Which Spring had nurs'd, and kiss'd with lips of dew; 

And where the bud§, unfolding with a smile, 

Their matron welcom'd without a taint of guile, 

Now, couch their heads, and hide away for fear. 

While 'round them Boreas whistles, bleak and drear. 



150 AUTUMN. 

Cold earth and air, and sparsely clouded sky. 
Witness tiie change, and sadly seem to sigh ; 
So man, when all his spring-like joys are fled, 
Looks down on coming age with conscious dread, 
And fain would hide him from Time's blasting breath, 
That sweeps him, ever, ever on to death. 



LINES WRITTEN TO A FRIEND. 151 



LINES AYRITTEN TO A FRIEND. 

TO BE READ ON AN ANNIVERSARY AT A COLLEGE 
FORMERLY ATTENDED BY THE AUTHOR. 

"Time changes all ! " So sighs the flying hour ; 
"Time changes all," and we must feel its power; 
Most keenly feel, when friend with friend must part, 
And snapp'd must be those ties that bind the heart. 

The scenes which I with pleasure once surveyed 

In Alfred's hall, and Alfred's forest shade, 

(That on the hill-side spread its mantle soft,) 

The vales, where I with pleasure wander'd oft, 

The murmuring brook, that there went babbling by. 

The distant pine, that seem'd to kiss the sky. 

(Whereon climb'd up my thoughts from earth to God), 

The varied landscape, there outstretched and broad, 

And the ftices, met there, hail and bright ; 

All these have pass'd forever from my sight; 

And now in distant lands is cast my lot, 

My thoughts look back upon that happy spot. 

As homesick children, who 'mid strangers roam. 

Look back upon their father's quiet dome. 

The throngs, that crowded once those spacious rooms 
Have scatter'd been like clouds — some to their tombs 
Have wended, others broadcast through the land. 



152 LINES WRITTEX TO A FRIEND. 

Are draining out life's still unwasted sand. 

Some teach the blooming fields to gladly rear 

The golden harvest for each closing year. 

And by their scythe, swung by a sinewy hand. 

To lay their offerings at the shrine of man. 

Some mould the tender mind, give power to thought, 

And shape the future of the being taught. 

Some speak of Jesus, and abroad proclaim 

Mankind's redemption in the Savior's name. 

Some advocate the equity of laws. 

And plead with eloquence their clients' cause. 

And some (beholding ills of human life), 

Mov'd by compassion deep, have whet the knife 

Of science, and where foul disease is rife. 

And human beings pine on Torture's rack. 

They interpose the blade, and beckon, " Back." 

And nearly all, on Matrimony's stage. 

Play well the drama for the future age ; 

Yet all. whate'er their lot or fortune be. 

Stretch back the lips of fondest memory. 

And to old Alfred press'd, rekiss the spot 

Where hopes arose they never have forgot ; 

And thoughts of what they should be, and what not ; 

Where strange and droll were mingled lot with lot, 

And friendship young link'd youthful soul to soul. 

And soft affection working strange control, 

Wove close the web of Love; or Cupid's dart 

Would often wound the most unwilling heart. 

And still my memory loves to linger near 
These cherish'd scenes, and in its falling tear 



LINES WRITTEN TO A FRIEND. 153 

See hygone pleasure's sunshine gleam, as you 

Have seen earth's sunshine, sparkle in the dew ; 

And when sweet Eve, on heaven's azure breast 

Has placed her gems to twinkle and to rest, 

My thoughts oft wander back, and strangely droll, 

Live o'er those scenes that once have bless'd the soul; 

And dream again the dream that then I dream'd 

Of a fair future, which was (as it seem'd). 

All lined with golden clouds, whose hallo w'd light 

Gave all my coming years a halo bright. 

And wdien a jubilee like this I view, 
My soul retouch'd with warmer zeal, and new. 
Leaps up — catches with ecstasy the strain 
That fired my being then, (one still untamed, ; 
And hears the one that wild Ambition chim'd 
Among the strings that tuned my youthful mind. 
And each of you, when years have fled away. 
Will look with pleasure, back upon this day; 
The feelings now^ that rise within your breast. 
Will look like mountains sinking in the West, 
And each enjoyment found, at times like this 
Will read on mem'ry's lettered tablet, '' Bliss.'''' 



154: OLD ALLEGANY. 



OLD ALLEGANY 

THE COUNTY OF THE AUTHOR'S NATIVITY IN THE STATE 
OF NEW YORK. 

Old Allegan}^ ! Bless that name ! 

Some poet's tongue should speak th}^ fame ; 

And since no poet thou hast bred. 

May I not fill that poet's stead ? 

And in a bungling soi-t of rhyme 

With all thy saw-mills leag'd, keep time; 

And roaming through some narrow vale, 

Rehearse the humble peasant's tale ; 

Or, pausing near some mountain stream. 

Indulge me in a wilder dream; 

Or, climbing at the mountain's side. 

Extend the chccker'd prospect wide, 

Of hills and valleys robed in green. 

Where hamlets, groves and fields are seen, 

And forests, towering, rude and wild. 

With arms extended many a mile. 

As if the landscape to embrace. 

And kiss its ever smiling face ; 

Or, with the elements at war, 

Wave their leaf-woven banners far. 

Till in the distance, dim and blue. 

They rear their heads in sable hue, 

And stretching up against the sky, 

Shut farther vision from the eye. 



OLD ALLEGANY. 155 

All thesti scenes iny soul liJive liird, 
Their voices wild my ears have thrill'd ; 
I love you yet, O native hills. 
Where I have set and ponderM, till 
The sun beneath the West withdrew. 
And nio^ht o'er all its curtain threw. 

Or when some stream, late svvell'd with rain, 

Came madly dashing o'er the plain. 

Or rushing from its head-land height. 

Like a young lion in its might, 

Loud roaring, till the wild woods near 

Returned the echo in my ear ; 

I've pans'd, enraptured at the thought. 

And feeling it had in me wa'ought. 

Till lost in wildest mood of mind. 

From which when waked, I waked to tind 

Thq tide encircling me complete. 

And waters grumbling at my feet. 

Or through the valley I have rov'd. 
And paused within some shady grove. 
And heard the peasant of the vale. 
Each in his turn rehearse his tale 
Of some romantic act or scene, 
Or deed of which he M the hero been, 
And then went up that ha ! ha ! ha ! 
In accents unrefined and raw. 
Which showM beyond liis own control, 
A rude, a rough, yet noble soul ; 
Yes, many such thy vail ays had 



156 OLD ALLEGANY. 

To make their many homesteads glad. 
And none but loved ones knew the prize, 
So covered np in deep disoruise. 

Old Allegany ! what a sound ! 
It sinks into my soul deep down. 
And rouses sights that long have been 
With clouds of dark oblivion dim. 
And rousM. they move before my eyes, 
Unveird in wonted life and size. 

Old Allegany, dear to me. 

And choicely stord in memory 

Are all thy scenes ! I love them well- 

And on them, ling'ring, love to dwell. 

Your springs, your rocks, your hills, your plains, 

Your flocks, your herds, deserve a name. 

And all your villages between • 

Your rugged hills, we would not screen, 

But let them elevated shine 

Like candles of the olden time. 

Angelica, their worthy crown. 
Is where the legal court is found. 
And law her measures deal to all 
Who upon her for justice call ; 
Old Almond, too, not far away, 
'Mid rugged hills makes small display. 
Yet there are angels 'neath its shade. 
But angels of a lower grade; 
Old Alfred, for true science fam'd, 



OLD ALLEGANY. 157 

Wliere earnest men the truth prochiim, 

Sits in a narrow vale in peace, 

Burning those lamps that never cease 

To pierce with holy rays the mind. 

And aids in blessing all mankind — 

He from these lamps, new lamps has lit, 

Which now in other valleys sit. 

As burning tapers, and whose beams 

Wake men from lornorance's dreams. 

Who once enlightened by their gleam. 

New beings hence forever seem ; 

And always seeking now the light, 

Chase from their minds the shades of night. 

Rushford was first to catch the tire, 
Which now ten thousand hearts inspire ; 
To Friendship next the blessing came, 
A spark, soon kindling into flame. 
To Richburg then a light was given — 
I can not say from earth or heaven — 
But by Old Alfred fir'd he came. 
Of whencesoever be his name, 
And Alfred's character partook, 
In action, meaning, word and look. 

There, hills-surrounded Wellsville shines 

In legal robes of later times ; 

Here, too, is Portage, Pike and Hume, 

Though small, yet in themselves presume 

To put on airs of larger towns, 

Thouojh theirs be not of courts or crown. 



158 OLD ALLEGANY. 

Hail ! Allegany, and adieu ! 
Ye valleys green and mountains blue. 
And thunder clouds of darker hue, 
, Which stretch'd from hill-top to the sky, 
Whereon the lightning's path awry, 
My thoughts were wont to climb on high ; 
To all these scenes, belov'd and true, 
My mem'ry bears sweet thoughts of you ; — 
My native land, adieu ! adieu I 



O FOR AN HOUR OF SOBER THOUGHT. 159 



O FOR AN HOUR OF SOBER THOUGHT 



for tin hour of sober thought. 
To think and ponder as I ought ; 
The busy world I 'd cast aside, 

And walk with nature, wild and wide — 

Forsake the babblings of mankind, 
The empty bubbles of the mind. 
And in some forest's lone retreat. 

1 'd take my solitary seat ; 

There to reflect, as needs must be, 
On Nature's wide-spread harmony. 
Where every thing without control. 
Fill with pure love the pond' ring soul. 

Each tree and plant, each leaf and flower, 
Speak of this theme at midnight hour. 
And none forget to say, " 'Tis true," 
While yet refresh'd by morning dew. 

And when the sun at noon rides high, 
The soul receives the same reply ; 
And then, at twilight's hour, we see. 
On all things, written, " Harmony ^ 



160 THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 

O Nature ! how I love your ways — 
My sweet resort in earl}^ days ; 
Still — still my wish would ever be, 
To mix my life and self with thee. 



BEHOLD THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN 
NATURE. 



With an observing eye, my friend most dear, 

Lets look around about us, far and near. 

On human nature in the human breast. 

In varied forms, and countless manners dress'd ; 

When placid Peace smoothes down the inner sea. 

Whose tranquil face makes perfect imagery, 

And when wild Passion's waves roll mountain high, 

And rent with storms are inner earth and sky. 

What living surges 'round us dance or roar. 
That kiss, or dash against their vital shore, 
In some mysterious style, or mystic way. 
Whether in darkness or at open day. 

Look in each living face, the low, the high, 

See strong and weak, the open, and the sly, 

The smooth, the rough of tongue, the quick, the slow. 

Some always saying '' Yes,'' some always '' No." 

See the gray sire, contrasted with the beau, 



THE VARIED FORMS OF HUxMAN NATURE. 161 

The sober dame, with the wild girl of show ; 

The man of thought and of reflective mien, 

With the light dancer, the thoughtless and the green ; 

Here, one all mtellect, soul all on fire, 

With there an eye, expressing scarce desire ; 

The thinking world, who ponder, search, and weigh. 

With pleasure-seeking, empty, giddy, gay ; 

The look all full of feeling and ot soul, 

With the blank stare, so feelingless and bold. 

In some, behold the light of virtue's tire — 
In others, vice, corruption, mud, and mire ; 
These, all are steep'd in infamy and crime. 
Those, in good deeds and spotless honor shine ; 
With virtue's votaries, are joy and peace ; 
With those of vice are woes without release ; 
That, leads to happiness, all bright and fair — 
This, to misery, deepening to despair. 

Choose you this day which one of these ye '11 wed. 
Vice or virtue, and whose path you '11 tread ; 
And on the morrow, shall be told the tale. 
And from the mighty gulf, withdraw the veil, 
Betwix'd the sinner, with his scroll of shame. 
And the bright saint with his, a spotless name. 
Oh, how that valley deepens as they go ! 
The one to hliBS^ the other — on to woe. 

And some there are, who would the gospel preach. 
Whose precepts and examples two things teach ; 
Whose words as brass, would make a mighty din — 

L 7* 



162 THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 

But souls, alas, no larger than a pin ; 
With views contracted as a poor man's purse, 
A mind as gaunt, benevolence much worse. 
Who fain would crush each good that doth arise. 
By them unsanctioned, 'neath their envious eyes ; 
Who think no other blessings worth two peas, 
Than those they shared while boys, rather, gawkies. 
With these they measure every gift of soul, 
The best they censure, and the worse extol ; 
And when some youth, fired by a noble zeal. 
Within, their own immortal natures feel, 
Would seek to feed on intellectual food, the soul, 
They then are ready, and, with bearing bold. 
Will use their bravest means to thwart such aim, 
That all like them, may have an empty brain ; 
And if, in spite of them,- one bursts to light, 
To be the comet of a future night. 
They cry out, " Fool ! it is at last to fail, 
" As well a whistle make of a pig's tail." 

These are the blocks that clog progression's wheel. 
Who feel no zeal, and would that none should feel. 
And whereso'er they are, they may be seen. 
To throw cold water on the best of means ; 
And this, to give is all that they are known 
In aid to any cause, except their own. 

Here Superstition's clouds, dense, dark and wry, 
Hide the bright sun of reason in the sky ; 
'' Of these," to every youth I 'd say, " Beware ! 
Though seeming friends, they hide a secret snare, 



THK VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 163 

And if to them was given but the power, 

They would not aid you in the trying hour, 

But, if above themselves, one step you 'd rise. 

They 'd pull you down, and pluck out both your eyes." 

But be it known, to them it is not given 
To say who shall, or shan't, ascend to heaven ; 
And we rejoice that they have never found 
The key which locks the door to higher ground, 
And you and I that door may surely find 
By noble culture of the heart and mind. 
And taste of purer air and brighter day, 
As saints direct, and God points out the way. 

But as we pass along this crowded route 

Of human nature and its high lookout. 

How can we pause, or shut our eyes to rest. 

When all around us, rises pest on pest ? 

See those with rankling venom, and whose tongue 

Heap calumny upon the old and young. 

Whose ears are prim'd for rumors as they rise, 

To catch and mould them into little lies ; 

Then, " spinning street yarn," all the town must ring, 

With colored rumors from these noisy things ; 

Who strew disgrace and discord as they go. 

Make strangers, enemies, and friends make foes ; 

And o'er the skies of peace, where virtues reign. 

They blow the whirlwind breath of wrong and shame, 

And when these are unto the welkin spread, 

They'll turn and rake the ashes of the dead. 



164 THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 

O if there's aught the world should hate and scorn, 

It is the slanderer, with her trumpet horn. 

Who fills the wind with her precious cries, 

And writes '' Disgrace " upon the spotless skies • 

And in the starr\^ vault of peaceful night, 

Says to each twinkling star, " Not all is bright.'' 

These are the scythes that would with keen edged power 
Mow down fair virtue's every smiling flower ; 
Though with pretended good they would deceive, 
You well can know them by the breath they breathe. 
Which ever stinks with lies, and bears a fang, 
The absent suffering from their ceaseless slang. 

But turning to one side, let us pass by. 
And see low Cunning, the deceitful eye^ 
Whose looks are friendship's wreath'd within a smile, 
While deep within, are treachery and guile ; 
Though finding fault with others, they in you 
Behold a friend, most worthy and most true ; 
So say their oily tongues before your face. 
And when with others, heap on you disgrace. 
When with a kiss they 'd show themselves most true, 
Old Ahab-like, they'll stab you through and through. 
And when along the mead you thoughtlessly pass, 
They prove themselves "the snakes within the grass," 
And when you dream of naught but faith and truth. 
They '11 pierce your naked skin with poison'd tooth, 
And soon are rankling through your every vein, 
Blighted fair hopes, and agony and pain. 



THE VARIED FOKxMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 165 

Tlieise are the serpents vvbicli, with seemiuu- charms, 

Allure their prey, entices, then disarms, 

And if you would their hated purpose foil. 

Do not be taken in their wily toils. 

But be forewanrd by one who has been dealt, 

Of him, whose mouth soft butter would not melt. 

But these three last are on the dismal side 

Of human nature, checkered, long and wide ; 

While on the other, much there is of good, 

And flowers are blooming in the field and wood — 

Where Friendship, Constancy, and Love, and Truth, 

Forever smile in one unfading youth. 

And heaven comes down their votaries to greet. 

And strew life's fairest gifts about their feet; 

While they with harmless tread march on the way 

Through valleys green, up to the gates of day. 

Such is the faithful wife, of all the pride, 
And such, the faithful husband at her side, 
Faithful in all, howe'er severely tried; 
And by whatever foes or trials pressed, 
Their children rise and call them ever bless'd. 
And those in want, and those in deep distress. 
Repeat the strain, adding, '' True friends in need," 
''Worthy of heart, coupl'd with worthy deeds; " 
And widowed mothers lift an earnest prayer 
For God to bless their doings every where. 
And for their nameless deeds of kindness done, 
To give them joy in life and life to come. 



166 THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 

All these amid life's lowly walks behold, 

Though having none, shine brighter far than gold ; 

Though good they feel their weakness every hour. 

And pray that they be led by higher Power, 

And by the cord of love, let down unseen. 

Are led ''by waters still, through pastures green." 

As closely you observe, these may be known 
As having no pretensions of their own. 
And by this well known fact : they never wear 
A self-important, self-conceited air. 

Here, too, are those who VI scorn a wicked thing. 

And plain and open would each action bring 

On its true merits, and would truly weigh 

Each by its solid worth, without display ; 

Who hate the gilded trappings of the earth. 

And gaudy show, empty of real worth ; 

Who would not smile on kings of base renown. 

Whose empty heads fill coronets and crowns ; 

But, Mordecai-like, would honor more 

A humble dog or beggar at his door — 

Who would put down the hydra head of Vice, 

Though crown'd and deck VI with pearls and jewels nice, 

And would rear up crush'd innocence and right. 

To press'd by heels of monarclis in their might ; 

Would dash to earth each lie-filled, jewel'd cup. 

And raise the naked truth and virtue up. 

And for the love of right, that right might reign. 

Would every danger face, and smile on pain ; 

From foul Deceit tear ofi her false disguise, 



THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 167 

And from beliiiul the storm unveil the skies ; 
From silken folds unwrap the sword of death, 
And show the fijlossini? lies which freio^ht the breath : 
From sordid Wealth take off her glossy show. 
And show her secret bosom, filled with woe. 
And, that on the coming of the promis'd morrow 
It would not bless to have '' a gilded sorrow." 

These, noble hearts ! most noble virtues share. 
Yet mostly rough and plain exteriors wear. 

Another class, whom we would name with pride. 

Are those who always look on the bright side, 

Who think, though all their skies with darkness lower. 

Their happy stars will shine at evening hour. 

And who believe, that in the darkest soul, 

There is redeeming light which courts control. 

And might be cultured in its truest sense. 

And light the moral gloom however dense ; 

And when dark woes oppress, will frequent say — 

" It's always darkest just before the day." 

As you these numan traits and airs survey, 

Mark well their forms — -how multiplied are they ! 

That like the rainbow's hues, though mark'd and bright. 

They strangely blend together and unite ; 

Thus grading each to each, who can pretend, 

Where one begins and where the other ends ? 

Thus strangely mixed, and all together hurl'd. 

Go to make up this busy, bustling world ; 

No place so good and pure but has its bad — 



168 THE VARIED FORMS OF HUMAN NATURE. 

No place so bad but that its o;ood hath had ; 
And as you pass along life's great highway, 
Mark well each feature, be whate'er it may. 
And gathering wisdom from each mien and h^ok, 
Learn well to read great human nature's book, 
Whose pages every where hold up to view 
Instructions rich and lessons deep and true ; 
And as you read, may it your heart improve. 
And teach your mind on virtue's side to move, 
That you and I. when life's pursuits are o'er, 
May meet in bliss upon the other shore. 



LINES ON THE MEDICAL FACULTY. 169 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE MEDICAL FACULTY 
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, 

AT ANN ARBOR, WHILE ATTENDING THAT COLLEGE 
A. D. 1856. 

The Medical Facult}^ hinted at in this poem was composed of 
the following persons, to wit. 

Samuel Denton, M. D , Professor of Theory and Practice of 
Medicine and Pathology. 

Silas H. Douglass, M. D,, Professor of Chemistry, Pharmacy 
and Toxicology. 

Abraham Sager, M. D.. Professor of Physiolog3^ 

C L. Ford, M. D., Professor of Anatomy, 

Alonzo B. Palmer, M, D., Professor of Therapeutics, Materia 
Medica, and Diseases of AVomen and Children. 

Moses Gunn. M. D., Professor of Surgery. 

'Twas night — the clouded heavens, lowering, frown'd, 
And darkness stretch'd her sable curtain 'round — 
When L with an unusual supper bless'd. 
Drowsy and weary, sought my couch for rest, 
And soon was rev'ling, strange as it may seem, 
Within that monster land, the land of dreams. 

Me thought 'twas morn, and the just rising sun 
Had kiss'd the distant hills, and one by one 
Crown'd in a head-dress bright, of golden light, 
While in the vales, still slept the shades of night ; 
And I, new come to these enchanting hours. 
Stood in Ann Arbor richly deckVl with flowers — 
8 



170 LINES ON THE MEDICAL FACULTY. 

The fairest prospects stretch'd themselves iiway, 

Each basking in the smiles of coming day — 

When all at once the ground uphove as though 

Pluto was rising from the shades below ; 

And soon to sight a shapeless being burst, 

By man abhorr'd, by God and heaven accursed. 

Far back he stretch'd a scrawlino^ lenorth alonof, 

On which was snaky folds, and hateful prongs. 

Thick-set with scales and many slimy things ; 

These, venom'd serpents, those, pernicious stings — 

And then that hydra head — who can describe, 

Though Pollocks aid him, and though Miltons guide ? 

Malicious lightnings lurk'd within its eyes, 

And shot around a thousand deadly dyes ; 

His mouth as ^Etna's crater open'd wide. 

In which to quench his thirst flow'd the full tide 

Of ebbing life, from all the world beside ; 

Far out he thrust a thousand forked tongue. 

And on each fork a human being hung. 

Pierced to the very soul, gasping for bi*eath, 

And writhing in the agonies of death. 

Amaz'd I stood and longing much to know 
What could this heinous monster be — when, lo ! 
In a deep guttural voice, and loud, he said, 
" I am Disease^ the Pathvmy to the Dead." 



Near by stood Science with her blazing Avand, 
Striving to snatch away each struggling man, 
And oft succeeded in her eager strife. 
And once cut off a fork that danirer'd life ; 



LINES ON tup: medical faculty. ITl 

Yet at one gulp this beast gorg'd thousands down, 
In spite of Science and her anxious frown, 
Who ever strove each struggling wretch to save, 
And made a Dent to check the greedy grave. 
On her broad breast a lofty Douglass strode — 
Through solvent nature pointed out the road, 
And here he entered the embattPd field, 
And o'er this monster's poisons throws a shield. 
An AVrarn^ Sager than the one of old, 
Play'd on her brow, and held a favorite hold ; 
And like the dog the boy had taught to spell, 
Knew more perhaps than his sleek tongue C(juld tell. 
His was, to show the way where nature trod. 
But where he flew, his soldiers could not plod. 
So light he stepp'd few prints were left behind — 
On came his troops, all eager, blund'ring, blind. 
While this one power he held above his kind, 
To lull to sleep the most attentive mind. 

Anatomy's wide stream swept o'er the glade. 

And who would fight the beast, first, this must wade ; 

But if this stream could ever be explor'd. 

If any one could breast it, this could Ford. 

'Twas he who piloted the raw recruits, 

Show'd every danger, settled all disputes. 

And safe and sound his soldiers over led. 

Upon the shoals of the unburied dead. 

But to the fight a brave Aloiizo came, 

Bearing a Palm engrafted in his name ; 

He taught the youth the temper of their steel, 



172 LINES ON THE MEDICAL FACULTY. 

What arms to use on each contested field, 

And from Materia Medica to bring 

The keenest blades to clip each scaly sting ; 

And how to snatch the mother and her child 

From out the jaws of this detest'd, vile ; 

Plain was his style, familiar his address, 

And every word left deep its own impress. 

Meanwhile proud Science, with her deep-mouth VI Gunn^ 

Shot ofi* each limb to which Disease had clung, 

And set the struggler free ; and thus was sav'd 

Full many a wretch from an untimely grave. 

Amaz'd I stood admiring much such skill, 
To see true Science carrying out her will — 
When, lo ! Disease siez'd fast a wise man's leg ; 
In vain he struggled, and imploring, begg'd — 
In vain he strove to extricate his limb, 
And each attempt was no avail to him ; 
When soon this Gunn^ as loud as Moses spoke — 
Down dropped the limb — and I, surpris'd, awoke. 






SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 173 



A DRAMATIC POEM. 



SOLIS: OR, KING OF THE SUN. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

SoLis, King of the Sun. 

Archus, Queen of the Rainbow and of Flowers. 

Venus, Queen of the Evening and Morning Star. 

Luna, Queen of the Moon. 

Crinita, Queen of a Comet, guest of Luna. 

Tellus, Queen of the Earth, twin sister to Archus. 

IN ONE SCENE ONLY. 

Enter Solis, crowned as in representation of the Sun. 
SOLIS. 

On the fleet wing'd arrows of light I have come ! 

I am not born of earth, but child of the smi ; 

Nor confin'd am I here by fate's galling tie, 

But worlds are my diamonds, my throne is the sky, 

From whose peerless height in radiance crown'd, 

I pour the rich rivers of beauty around ; 

Whose full flowing streams in their season do bring, 

The frowns of the Winter, the smiles of the Spring ; 

Robes Summer's fair fields in their gay, smiling flowers, 

And old Autumn bears on with his golden hours. 



174 SOLIS : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 

Whose harvests do fill to fuU-rounding-up 
All the wants of mankind, and industry's cup. 

I have held up my lamp o'er the earthly ball, 
Beheld nations rise, and have witness'd their fall, 
Lit the conqueror on with his sword so unjust — 
Saw both side by side again humbFd to the dust ; 
When, lo ! from those ashes a like warrior sprang, 
Orasp'd the remolded sword, and sent 'round a like 

clang ; 
And kingdoms, and empires, both lofty and proud, 
Shook off their gilt crowns, and submissively bow'd. 
Time drove his fleet chariot over the world. 
And warriors and nations together were hurl'd 
In one common grave, there to moulder away, 
Entomb'd in their ruin, their tombstones, decay. 
Thus rulers and nations I 've witness'd expire. 
And ages go out like the sparks of the fire ; 
The tides and the years with my rulings agree — 
Yea worlds in their rounds find a center in me. 

I 've sent out my daughters, with blessings abroad, 

To adorn and enrich the works of my God ; 

The queen of the moon, as she glides through the sky. 

All enliven'd by me, looks down from on high. 

And invoking a smile, while night holds control. 

Wells up lofty thought from the deep seated soul. 

The queen of fair Venus, in her gentle way. 

Ushers in with her smiles the close of the day ; 

Or, else in the East, with a more gentle glow, 

Foretells that the morning is slumbering below; 



SOLI8 : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 175 

And queen of the rainbow, and goddess of flowers, 
Oft beguiles with her charms the by-gliding hours. 
Though seldom to man she reveals her fair form, 
But holds up her crown on the van of the storm. 
Hail fair, gentle goddess! come, leave your bright throne! 
'Tis your father who calls you : Come, daughter, come. 

Enter Archus, croioned with the rainhov), and in her hand a basket of 

floimrs. 

ARCHUS. 

I heard your loud voice, and on wings of a ray 

I hasten to great you, O king of the day ; 

From the land of bright flowers, so precious to sight, 

Say, why have you calPd me, O sov'reign of light ? 

SOLIS. 

Hast thou painted thy hues so oft in the sky, 

And commun'd with my smiles, and asketh me why ? 

Say, is it not proper that we should draw nigh, 

And catch the rich glance of the full, rolling eye ? 

For us, who enliven creation at large. 

To commune and relate how prospers our charge 'I 

ARCHUS. 

O, yes, potent king ! and I come to fultiU ; 
I only ask'd why, to learn your true will. 
And I bring from my store this casket of mine, 
In which are great treasures to lay at yoiar shrine ; 
It contains the prime gem of the deep-hidden cave, 
The most precious pearls 'neath ocean's wide wave, 



176 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

The prismatic glass, which philosophy sways, 
To learn of my beauties, and sever thy rays ; 
A lovely bouquet, from my choicest of flowers. 
Each rendered immortal by heavenly powers. 

Here, take it — 'tis yours ; I devote it to thee. 

As token of ties which bind you and me ; 

And know that my kingdom with glory shall shine 

Just so long as light's wealth pours out from your mine 

And men will look up from this region below. 

Admiring me still through the form of my bow. 

■ SOLIS. 
{Receiving the casket.) 
I accept thy rich gift, my fair, gentle child. 
Things pluck'd by thy hand from the mart and the wild 
While they sparkle their wealth, they indicate sure, 
A heart and a mind in thy bosom as pure. 
And while I've look'd out o'er the rock-cover'd cave, 
Or pierced with my beams through the fathomless wave, 
I've valued such gems, as belonging to thee, 
And rejoic'd in the rose your image to see. 

But look to the West — see that fair, gentle star, 
Keflecting its rays of rare beauty afar, 
'Tis there lovely Venus, your sister, doth dwell, 
To call her to meet us, say, were it not well ? 

ARCHUS. 

O, yes, call her — I love to gaze on her form. 

SOLIS. 

{Calling at a distance.) 
Hail, Venus, sweet queen of the eve and the morn, 



sous : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 177 

Your gay, golden pinions now ready prepare — 
Hither, wing your fleet course through the ambient air 

Enter Venus, crowned, and on Iter crown a hrigid fitur, 

VENUS. 

Hail ! father, tliou ; and, sweet sister, hail ! 
May wisdom be with you, and glory prevail ! 
But what wilt thou with me, O sov'reign of day ? 
Speak out thy commands, and forthwith I obey. 

SOLIS. 

While looking far out o'er the world's western shore. 
We beheld your fair star, and could but adore. 
And deem'd that to call you from thither awhile. 
In communion of thoughts, adorn'd with a smile. 
Would be a rare pleasure for us and for thee ; 
Say, what are the tidings from your upper sea ? 

VENUS. 

I bring you good tidings in which I delight. 
And they speak of yon star which gleams on the sight. 
A world like to this, it revolves on its rounds, 
With continents, islands, and oceans abounds ; 
And o'er field and through groves of beauty and love. 
Vast swarms of glad creatures transportingly move ; 
Blossoms smile on the stalk, fruits blush on the stem, 
Desiring as if to be sever'd by men. 
And while in itself, it's a world of rich joys. 
The light from thy sun it most nobly employs, 
By throwing far out into space its soft hues. 
And thus, other orbs with its mildness embues. 
M 



ITS SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

And here, lionorVl sire, is a boon I have brought — 
Neither diamond, nor pearl, but gems of deep thought, 
Unlike those which sister has laid on thy shrine, 
They deck not the person, but rather, the mind ; 
They taught me, while gazing in yon vault above, 
That God is omniscient, a Being of love. . 
[Pretienting the book or gift.^ 

Here, take it — the most precious gift I could bring ; 
Peruse it, and prize it — 'tis no worthless thing. 

SOLIS. 
{Receiving the book or gift.) 
My thanks, noble daughter ; for rich it must be 
Since kindled, it has, admiration in thee ; 
For such minds as yours, richly laden with lore, 
Will find in no trifles, the things they adore ; 
Therefore, Til peruse it with pleasures unknown, 
For your sake if all, and, I trust, for my own. 

ARCHUS. 

{Ih Venus.) 

Here, my sister mild, is a lock of my hair, 
Clipp'd while yet a mere child — 'tis thine for to wear 
As a pledge of my love, and wherever you be, 
While gazing on this, you will think upon me. 

VENUS. 
{Receiving the gift.) 

I take with full heart, for 't will waken, in truth, 
Both remembrance of you, and the days of our youth, 
Those sweet, happy days, pass'd forever away, 
All swept ofi* by time in its hurried array ; 
And here is a motto, I give in return, 



SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 179 

Which I wish you would keep and ftiithfully learn ; 
It has guarded my feet through dangerous ways. 
And shed deep in my heart a joy-given ray. 

ARCHUS. 

{Receiclng the motto, reads aloud. ) 
Motto — To folly ne'er a hearing lend, 

But wisdom make your bosom friend. 
Noble motto indeed ! Has this been your guide 
While wheeling your world through the universe wide ? 
No wonder your bosom doth burn with that fire 
To which all your sisters in vain must aspire. 
This indeed is enough — the secret is known, 
And with a like flame, it shall brighten my own. 

SOLIS. 
{To both.) 
My fair, worthy daughters, of right, worthy soul. 
The feelings you cause me I can not control ; 
But are there not others who have a like claim ? 
Look out on the hill-side, the vale, and the plain. 
Behold ! gentle Luna throws down her mild light. 
And with looks of her love now softens the night. 
O, shall I not summon her presence this hour ? 
Her words are most gentle, inspiring her power. 

ARCHUS and venus 

{In concert.) 

O. yes, to be sure ! for delightful 't will be 
To meet with that sister, gay, happy and free. 

SOLIS. 
{Galling as to one at a distance.) 
Arise, gentle Luna, thou queen of the night. 
Descend down to earth on the wings of your light. 



180 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

♦ 
Enter Luna, crowned with representation of the moon, and mith her a 
stranger, crowined in representation of a Comet, a long train Jioat- 
ing lightly from her croion. 

LUNA. 

I come, potent father ; my pleasures are thine 
Thy glory as wide as thy fulgency shines. 

{To Venus and Archils,^ 

And, sisters, I greet you^ with joy unsuppress'd. 
ARCHUS and venus. 

{In conrcrt.) 

\Ye, thee^ gentle Luna, be thou ever bless' d. 

SOLIS. 

{To Luna.) 

Fair Luna, I've summon'd thy sisters and thee 
To hold a few moments of converse with me. 
To learn of yourselves, hoAV prospers your trusts ; 
Say, what dost thou bring from thy kingdom to us ? 

LUNA. 

The tidings I bring, on my mission are these : 

My satellite swings around earth with all ease^ 

Silver'd o'er with thy light in image of thee, 

And just now is passing through its perigee. 

Fair beauties are smiling in each glowing scene. 

Deck fields with their blossoms, and woods with their 

green ; 
All nature rejoices and quietude reigns — 
In short, there is nothing of which I complain, 
Except, that, now and then, this world rolls between 



SOLIS : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 181 

Thy own orb iind mine, which makes a dark scene ; 
But then it soon passes, and leaves thee to shine, 
And learns me to prize thee more justly, meantime, 
The blessings received from thy bountiful source. 
The which if withheld. Desolation, in course. 
Would rise in his niiglit, and with a dire hand. 
Stretch wide the dark curtain of death o'er my land. 
Then, thanks, honor'd sire, that thy sun-orb so bright, 
Sheds abroad over mine its life-giving light ; 
And I've brought you a gift, which I wish you would 

keep 
As token from me of my gratitude deep ; 
'Tis a mirror indeed, unlike those of art, 
It reflects not the person, but, rather, the heart ; 
And shows the emotions which swelling are there, 
Whether sympathy, madness, hope or despair. 

[Presenting tke^ift.] 
Accept from my hand, and wherever thou art. 
May it image for thee, an unsullied heart. 

SOLIS. 

{Receiving the gift. ) 
Thy gift, gentle Luna, becomes such as thee, 
And merits a warm approbation from me ; 
[Turning to Grinita, the stranger.] 
But who is this stranger who entered .with you ? 
Quite wild in her mien, if I take a right view. 
And who carries behind a long sweeping train. 
Streaming out in the wind like a wild horse's mane. 
Is she not a child of Pegasus of old. 
Who winged the high vault, and there now a place holds ? 



182 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

LUNA. 

This one is Crinita, my guest, noble sire, 

Whose throne is a comet that worlds oft admire — 

Who, while whirling of late her orbit around. 

Gave charge to her nymphs, and then with a bound 

Leap'd off from her world and lit in my reign. 

To visit with us, till her planet again, 

Re-encircling its path, shall pass by this way. 

When she spreads her gay plumes and departs on a ray. 

sous. 

{To Criulta.) 

Most welcome, Crinita ; peace be to your throne. 

CRINITA. 

{'10 Solis.) 

My thanks, honor'd kipg ; glory be to your own. 

LUNA. 

{To Crinita, looking to Archus and Venus.) 

My sisters, Crinita. 

CRINITA. 

{To Arcfius and Venus.) 

Hail, gentle queens ! 

ARCHUS and venus. 

, {fn concert.) 

Hail, thou, fairest stranger ; hail, to these scenes. 

SOLIS. 

{To Crinita ) 

Stranger queen, the stamp of your mien, full of light. 



SOLIS : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 183 

Keveiils from within an intelligence bright ; 
And since in a strange course your comet is bound, 
Perhaps you can tell us some secret profound — 
Say, whither and how, your flaming world rolls, 
And what laws impel it, and what one controls. 

CRINITA. 

You ask, potent king, and right glad I reply : 

For sublime is my world as it sweeps through the sk}^ — 

Two suns it revolves in its broad, ample course. 

And receives from each one an impelling force ; 

The one, is thy orb, all dazzling with light — 

T^he other, so distant, it shrinks from the sight ; 

Each one of these serve as do magnetic poles — 

Midway twixt the two, it but tardily rolls, 

But approaching near either, it hurries its flight. 

Till worlds near its course, stand amazVl at the sight. 

How splendid the prospect as viewVl from my throne ! 

Of orbs in wide space, which Jehovah has sown ; 

Vast worlds without number diLate on the view, 

Each enlarging its sphere, and brightening its hue — 

Still onward, right onward, my rapid world runs, 

Until once twinkling stars, are changed into suns ; 

And planets that cast unperceivable light, 

Now beam as broad-orb VI as yon moon on the sight. 

But arriving at one of its predestined poles. 

It turns an ellipse, and awayward it rolls ; 

When these worlds, retiring, now lessen display. 

Till in the dim distance, they vanish away ; 

And others, like these, now increasing their light. 



184 SOLIS : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 

Charm in the same way, the far-wandering sight. 
Thus ever changmg are the prospects I view, 
Each furnishing scenes of sublimity new. 

SOLIS. 

Well said, fair Crinita ; IVe witness'd your throne. 
In loftiest grandeur encircling my own. 
But the mysteries these words of yours have revealVl, 
Ever before from me and mine were conceal'd, 
And the picture you paint of your world as it rolls, 
Draws up a deep thought, and enlarges the soul. 

ARCHUS and venus. 

{In concsrt.) 

And, too, deep within, you have waken'd our minds 
To conceptions more grand, and thoughts more sublime. 
Than when we first view'd with the wilder surprise, 
Your comet in flames, sweeping on through the skies. 

VENUS. 
{VoiUiRuing (tlone ) 

And as a return, here's a chart of my throne 

ARCHUS. 

(Alone.) 
And likewise of mine, and my bow, as unflown. 

CRINITA. 

M}' thanks to you both ; to peruse will delight, 
And shed a new ray of truth on the sight. 



SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 185 

LUNA. 

{To Archtis, presenting d picture.) 

Allow me, dear Archil s, this keepsake to give, 
A draft of the scenes where in childhood we lived. 
Where as children we sported, with childish delight, 
The sun, then our home, our sire, king of light, 
And mother, the queen of reflection, so bright. 

ARCHUS. 

(Receiu/if/ the design.) 

O, yes ! how familiar to sight is that spot ! 

It brings to my mind things that were, but are not ; 

And while gazing, I seem to sport there once more, 

And with you, those moments again to live o'er ; 

So skillfully drawn, 'tis a treasure to me. 

For which in return, let me now give to thee. 

This memento of mine — to wealth not the goal. 

But a path that doth lead deep into my soul 

'Tis the sketch of a scene I long ago drew. 

The scene where our father, each one blessed anew. 

And gave us all charges remote from his throne , 

[Giving the gift.] 

And where we departed. Accept for your own 

LUNA. 

{Viewing the picture.) 
Thrilling picture indeed ! How rich to peruse ! 
So perfectly drawn in your own native hues ; 
It even surpasses your bow on the cloud ; 
Of such from your hand, I shall ever be proud. 
8* 



186 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

VENUS. 

{To Luna.) 

Gentle Luna, on that memorial day, 
High o'er the blue concave, I wing\l my long way ; 
I stoop'd in my world, near the swell of its sea. 
And on folding my plumes, an image of me 
Attracted my gaze — 'twas a pearl m the sand 
I bent down, and seiz'd it with tremulous hand ; 
And while I stood viewing the seeming design. 
Wild wonder chas'd wonder along in my mind : 
" Why in this strange world, so remote from the ]>ounds 
That had known me before in youth's happy round. 
An image so perfect of me should be found ? " 
Then a look to the sky, inquiring, T gave. 
When earth and your planet hung over the wave. 
Long while I stood gazing, with feelings sublime. 
And thought I could see you the whole of this time, 
Looking down with a smile of complacence on mine. 
The incident render'd thee dearer to me, 
[Giviiig the design,'] 

And for your sake, I give the same likeness to thee. 

LUNA. 

{Looking intently at the gift.) 
Your image most sure ! How correct to the view I 
A representation most perfect of you ; 
But be not astonish'd — go whither you will, 
All things are created with unerring skill. 
And God, in his infinite, all-wise design. 
Decreed such should govern that planet of thine. 
And stamp'd the design on a pearl of the sea. 



sous : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 1ST 

In guidance of which, he created, then thee. 

And here is my own, which on that same day, 

I found on a mound, in a similar way ; 

Fbr gazing above me, there shone on the sight 

Thy planet, all cloth'd in its radiant light ; 

When my thoughts soar'd away, your own by their side. 

For our thoughts may commune, though worlds us divide- 

{Gives the gift.) 
T'hen receive from my hand, as I have from thine — 
Twill serve thee more closely our hearts to entwine. 

VENUS. 

(Receiving the gift.) 
I take, and forever will treasure with care, 
This emblem of yours so perfected and rare. 

SOLTS. 

My right worthy Archus, come near me, and say^ 
What know you of Tellus ? is she far away ? 

ARCHUS. 

O, no, noble father I how could she be far, 
A twin sister to me, and breathes the same air? 
As when we were infants, we oftentimes lay 
In the same cradle lied ; so. likewise to-day. 
Our possessions both meet, embrace and entwine, 
As in those happy days, her arms did with mine ; 
Then, likeness of mother's sweet visasre she bore - 
She doth still bear the same, and will, evermore. 
I then loved her for this — that love has now grown^ 
Till earth wide dominions its mighty sway own ; 



188 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

And if you commanded, right quickly she 'd come, 
Fleet-wing'd as the morning, with us to be one. 

SOLIS. 

{Calling at a distance.) 

Hail, earth's fairy queen ! in your own we have met. 
And space in our circle awaits for you yet ; 

fill and make perfect, your presence will light, 
Every recess of soul, as sight speaks to sight. 

Enter Tellus, clothed in three principal colors, gray, green and blue, 
ornamented with others, and croicned to represent Earth in some 
appropriate manner 

TELLUS. 

Hail, most worthy father, and sisters, of old ! 
How bless'd my dominion, this number to hold. 
Who often have honor'd the courts of the skies. 
Esteemed and respected, as holy and wise, 

1 welcome you all with pleasure untold. 

SOLIS, ARCHUS, VENUS and LUNA. 

{In concert ) 

We, thee^ queenly Tellus, with heart and with soul. 

SOLIS. 

{Alone.) 

Dear Tellus, we've come from the universe wide. 
And snatch a few moments from time's crowd'd tide, 
To talk of the charges we hold now in trust 
From the hand of our Father, Eternal and Just ; 
Relate, worthy daughter, what tidings from you. 
So fitly apparel'd in gray, green, and blue. 



sous : OK, KING OF THE SUN. 189^ 

TELLUS. 

My dominion is Earth ; the gray that I wear 
Betokens the fogs and the ck)ads of the air ; 
And to the beholder, my vesture of green 
Bespeaks of the verdure that is every where seen ; 
And over all these, is my mantle of blue, 
In semblance of ocean's and sky's mellow hue. 

My earth in the lap of great Nature doth lie, 
And sweet harmony folds with a most holy tie, 
In her arms, the old ocean, land, air and sky; 
While stars without number behold the embrace. 
And kiss with their smiles my uplifted face. 
Dear Archus, twin sister, that beautiful queen. 
The storm robes in splendor, in beauty, the green ; 
As when in our childhood, one cradle contained. 
So mingled in one, is our wide-spread domain ; 
We live in sweet union, and blest evermore. 
By things had in common from great Nature's store. 

When kiss'd by thy smiles, forever, as now. 
Her spray-woven banner is seen near the prow 
Of every proud vessel which ocean doth plow, 
And also, wide-spread, on the cataract's brow. 
And when with the rainfall I moisten the plain. 
Hill, valley and mountain spread out in my reign. 
And thy sunlight, approving, doth smile on the same^ 
Then her banner so grand is held up to view. 
Like a wide arch of glory, of every known hue ; 
And all human beings of every degree. 
With full admiration and orratitude see — 



190 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

While her most precious blossoms look up and smile 
At blessings, those moments so sweetly beguile. 

And when thy Inight sunset at close of the day, 
Just kisses, with blushes of crimson, the gray, 
Queen of Beauty stands forth unveiPd 'mid the scene; 
And the gazer is lost in rapture's wild dream — 
Then an up-flowing stream of wonder and love 
Commune with the spirits and angels above. 
And then, when again in the eastern-bent sky, 
The thunder cloud holds its hu£:e summits on hisfh. 
And, jagged edg'd, valley-like, deep in between. 
Depressions and gorges are every where seen. 
And, stretching away, deep fold upon fold, 
Being sun-kiss'd, are cloth'd in crystal and gold ; 
While, lurking within, the dread lightning's display 
Lights up its deep chambers more vivid than day ; 
And it seems just as though its arcades were given 
A stage to the gods for the scenes of high heaven. 
Where great concourse of angels witness display 
Of Nature's great forces, in wondrous way. 

The land, air and ocean do every where swarm 

With creatures of every conceivable form. 

Rejoicing in being, and show to the mind 

Omnipotent wisdom and all-wise design. 

And yet over all these, worth more than the whole. 

But singly considered, is the human soul. 

Which weighs and contemplates the works of our God, 

Stretch'd out in such beauty and grandeur abroad. 

And, drinking in glory, admiration and awe, 



80LIS : OK KING OF THE SUN. 191 

Surveys with wild wonder his most perfect law. 

And thefefroni, conclusions of high order draw., 

That soul has been bought with a ransom most dear — 

Every one that but will, and come humbly near, 

To the Savior Divine, who is able to save 

From })ollution and sin, from death and the grave. 

Is made child of God and heir of high heaven, 

And life everlastino^ to him shall be oriven: 

These, drinking in knowledge and wisdom profound, 

As endless eternity rolls on its round. 

And being perfected by love more and more, 

Soon become the bright saints, we so much adore. 

Thus wells up a stream, which to heaven doth flow. 

Of life everlasting, from my world below. 

The morals, and beauties, and grandeurs described 
Are indeed but the few, in my varied world wide. 
And I seem like the boy, who on ocean's wide strand, 
Has pick'd up a pebble or two in his hand. 
While the deep hidden bed, and pebble lined shore. 
Lie all unexplored, untrodden, before. 

SOLIS. 

Most queenly instructress, your wisdom, I trow. 
Will bless you forever where'er you may go; 
And the great moral gifts which you have been given 
Will glorify earth, be approved of in heaven; 
And in each endeavor you have my good will. 

ARCHUS, VENUS and LUNA. 

(In concert.) 

Ours also be with you, each mission to fill. 



192 SOLIS : OR, KING OF THE SUN. 

TELLUS. 

For this I am grateful, and ever shall feel 
A grief in your sorrow, a joy, in your weal. 

♦ SOLIS. 

My dear, worthy daughters, we now must away, 
Our duties in charge, brook not longer delay ; 
But on our departure, before Ave shall leave, 
This wish to you all, allow me to breathe : 
May virtue and truth in each bosom bear sway. 
And joy light within you the brightness of day. 

ARCHUS, VENUS, LUNA and TELLUS. 

{Ill concert. ) 

Thanks, most honored father — may God from above 
Pour down in thy bosom rich streams of his love. 

SOLIS. 

Time heeds us not — we must hasten our flight ; 
So, good night to all. 

ARCHUS. 

Good night. 

VENUS. 

Good night. 

LUNA and TELLUS. 

{In concert.) 
Good night. 

AND CURTAIN FALLS. 



A husband's lament. 193 



A DRAMATIC POEM. 



THE HUSBAND'S LAMENT.. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Husband. 
Wife. 

Spirit op Sarah, Sister to Husband. 
Spirit of Litha, another Sister to Husband. 

IN ONE SCENE. 
Enter Husband, poorly clad. 
HUSBAND. 

Oh what is earth and all its fairest toys ? 

A dreary scene, where many tangling weeds 

Encumber my lone way, and venom w^afts 

Upon each breeze, to poison all my joys. 

Deep sable clouds overhang my fairest skies. 

And quench life's noontide light in thickest gloom, 

In shades of death and vapors from the tomb. 

Once I had joys, and Hope hung out her bow 
On future scenes, and glory smiled on sight. 
While life upon an easy axle roll'd. 

Oh happy days ! say, whither have you fled ? 
And shall I never greet your fond return ? 
Are ye forever gone ? Ah, yes ; and time, 

N 9 



194 A husband's lament. 

That sweeps the theater of human life, 
Has with remorseless hand swept these away, 
O'er whose dread ruins dark oblivion rolls, 
Whose constant tide is rising every hour. 

O, yes ! — once I was fortune's child ; and joy. 

Aye, sweet and sportive joy, arose, and with 

Delightful hand strew'd garlands in my way — 

Smiles greeted me at every turn of life, 

And Providence pour'd out an ample stream 

Of blessings from above. But now, how chang'd ! 

Fair fortune smiles no more, but, frowning, turns 

My garlands into serpents vile, which hiss 

A cloud of moral pestilence about ; 

And that once stream of blessings from above, 

Into a howling cataract of care. 

Which pours its rushmg torrents down 

Into the shrieking soul. O. cease, ye floods ! 

Ye angry waters, black with mud and mire. 

And give me but a little moment's rest, 

Or, swell your waves to boiling seas, and quench 

Forever this frail spark of life. But, no ! — 

My God, forgive ! I'm not alone in this, 

My misery ! I have a Avife — a Avife, 

So tender, mild and fair, who when I pledg'd 

My heart, o'er flowing with the purest love. 

Gave to me an angel smile of supreme 

Confidence, a sweet return. The rose then 

Blush'd upon her cheek, and blossom'd in her soul. 

I was her pride, her hope, her inmost trust : 

In me she lived, the fullness of my joys. 



A husband's lament. 195 

She knew nie then as one whom plenty crown 'd, 

And on whom favoring fortune lov'd to smile. 

But now, how changed ! — stripped to my very limbs, 

Gaunt poverty howls round my humble cot, 

And meager want has mark'd my darling boy; 

And my ever patient wife — how has she 

Been rack'd on fortune's wheel, and yet without 

A groan. Nor knows she of the many cares 

Which crush me down to uttermost despair, 

The ever creaking pangs that have torn loose 

My very vitals, and left them streaming out 

My life within a cold November's wind. 

For this deserving wife alone I live ; 

Without the whom ! — O, beating heart, be still ! 

And rise, ye sods, and mantle me ! But, hark ! 

Footsteps approach ; — say, who has heard these words, 

Which I would wish to hide ? 

Enter Wife, speaking. 

Thy wife hath heard ; 
Say, why forlorn ? Though plenty once bestow'd 
On us its store, and now that store withholds, 
Wide heaven still smiles alike on all — alike 
Sends rain and sun. This morn — this very morn, 
O, my poor heart was blessed ! While our sweet boy 
Lay slumb'ring on his couch with sportive joys 
Lull'd in his infant breast, the winning smile 
Sported with childish dreamfe upon his brow ; 
Just then the sun arose, and streaming through 
The shatter'd wall, just kissed his rosy cheek, 
And made more deep the tinge. The sight awoke 



196 A husband's lament. 

A secret thought Avithin, and, thereby, set 

In motion a long train of kindred thoughts, 

Which, rolling through my anxious breast, stirrM up 

The deepest waters of the soul, and bade 

My inmost heart rejoice, and breathe out thanks, 

That we, e'en now, were favor'd thus, and blest 

With lisrht, a dear lovVl, thousfh an humble home. 

HUSBAND. 

And yet what is that home ? — a wind-rent shed; 
And that, though mean, is not my own. Behold 
The smiling fields which verdurYl once for me, 
A stranger holds ; and the proud dwelling once 
That hung its high arch'd roof above my head, 
Now shelters one who hates me ; and the ground 
Where I was wont to sport while yet a child. 
Is trampled on by lawless feet. The world 
Looks on and mocks my poverty. And you. 
My fairest angel, ne'er expected this, 
The day you freely gave your all to me. 
And vow'd yourself through life my own should be ; 
The picture of that life which then we drew. 
Has proven most deceptive and untrue. 

How can I gaze upon your careworn brow. 
And wasted form (so neat, yet cheaply clad. 
Once adorn'd more becoming of its worth). 
And think that my misfortune is the cause 
Of this sad change. Our infant darling rolls 
On me his sparkling eyes, and seems to say, 
Where is the fortune of your sires ? I turn 



A husband's lament. 197 

Around iind strangers ask, " Where" ? My mind 
Next seeks relief in gentle sleep's repose ; 
A thousand troubl'd visions weary sleep. 
And coming morning finds me still unbless'd ; 
The day but multiplies my Avoes, till care 
On care pile up themselves against the clouds. 
Whereon I plainly read, " Unceasing toil." 
And shall I clamber on ? or 'neath this pile, 
At sorrow's base, Avithin a niarrow vault 
Lay my weary l)()nes to rest t 

WIFE. 

O, hush thee, man ! 
Amid ten thousand glories, these are but 
The glooms. Roll back the sable clouds, and view 
The many stars conceal'd. Thy little child. 
The brightest — and the benefits receiv'd. 
The countless clusters scatter'd here and there ; 
Thy home, the pole-star, 'round Avhich all revolve — 
All these look down in tranquil loveliness. 
And angels smile amid the warring storms. 

O, then, these gloomy bodings cast aside. 

And learn, Avhere love and penitence exists, 

lliemselves are happiness ; and as for me. 

Thy mis'ries make my OAvn. Say joy is thine — 

It In-eathes alike in me — want has no share. 

Behold, a thousand varied duties call. 

Of which high heaven approves. First, be resign'd 

To fate, let come Avhat Avill ; then nobly bless 

Thy home with the rewards of honest toil, 



198 A husband's LAMExNT. 

And share with me the burthen of our cares, 
Which we in penitence will mutual bear. 
And seek to turn a skillful hand to each, 
That they may prove no evil, but our good. 
By teaching us to bear misfortune's load, 
And in true meekness, penitence and love. 
Pour out our thanks for benefits received ; 
Though they may seem to us but few and small, 
Let gratitude enlarge the worth of all, 
And bring celestial blossoms from above. 

And even now, I see a fairy form. 

Descending from the sky, and shedding rays 

Of holy light o'er our dark future, bids 

Our bosoms cheer ; — it stoops to earth, and now, 

With gentle tread, is gliding noiseless near ; 

Hail, spotless spirit ! what your mission here ? 

SPIRIT OF SARAH. 

Hail, sweet consoler, born to bless and cheer ! 

HUSBAND. 

Celestial stranger ! O my heart relents. 
Why should I thus complain ? — blind to each boon 
The hand of Providence has given ! Forgive, 
And thy instructions let me hear and learn. 

SPIRIT OF SARAH. 

A stranger ! Know me not, my brother mild ? 
Thy sister Sarah, once the laughing child. 
Who sported oft with you in childhood hours, 
When youthful transports gave to us their powers? 



A husband's lament. 199 

Yourself was happy then, and gay and free, 
As you fantastic pleasures chased with me ; 
But ere our youth was spent, Death in his might 
CloggVI my life's blood, but robed my soul in light. 
And, O ! yourself, how changed 'twixt then and now I 
Why hangs that cloud of gloom about your brow ( 
And why despair, like a December's storm. 
Sweep howling through your breast and vitals warm. 

Has disappointment cross'd your path in life ? 
Behold a recompense in her, your wife ! 
Has want all your gilt treasures dar'd destroy 'i 
Behold, they shine renew'd in your sweet boy ! 
Do seeming storms o'er all your future lower ? 
The darkest skies oft clear Avithin an hour ! 
Has death your sisters laid beneath the sand ? 
Like me they flourish in a brighter land ! 
Have friends forsaken, and the path they trod ? 
Look up, and trust a more than friend, thy God ! 
Has sin within your bosom left a stain ? 
A Savior's blood can wash it white again ! 
Repent and all your sins be you forgiven ! 
Earth then is l)right, and the reward, is heaven I 

HUSBAND. 

You ask, why changed? why sadness shrouds the souli' 
Behold the blank around ! Can I my woes control ( 
Want fiercely frowns (where once fair plenty smiTd,) 
And wastes the limbs of my dear wife and child I 
Parents and sisters, all have found a tomb, 
And I alone grope through this dismal gloom, 



200 

With but one oar my fragile boat to steer, 
And that, my wife, who fain my heart would cheer. 
That hope within, once blooming fair and free, 
Has doffed its plumes ; and now a naked tree 
Waves o'er my dreary heart, and in each blast. 
Moans o'er the crumbling ruins of the past. 
But your reproofs my struggling soul has stirr'd. 
And I will try to profit by your word. 
But Avhere is Litha, once the laughing child. 
Who with us sported, with us talked and smil'd, 
Who lov'd us deeply ; and from day to day 
Grew fairer, but like thee, to pass away ? 

SPIRIT OF SARAH. 

O joy-causing thought ! that sweet, happy girl. 
Now soars a seraph in a brighter world. 
And while her ashes sleep beneath the sod, 
She sweeps angelic harps in praise of God. 

HUSBAND. 

O could you not bid her stretch hither her flight ? 
To see that fair sister would waken delight. 
Notwithstanding the storms Avhich hang o'er my soul. 

SPIRIT OF SARAH. 

{Galling to a distiuire.) 

My sweet sister spirit, your pinions unfold. 
On the breath of the eve, fleet-wing'd as the light. 
Descend down to earth — break to human sight ! 
Enter Spirit of Litha, dressed in white. 
SPIRIT OF LITHA. 

Joy be unto all ! and remember'd, the day. 
When spirits in freedom, greet spirits, in clay. 



A husband's lament. 201 

HUSBAND. 

Hail, long departed ! now child of the skies ! 
Yourself I see looking from angelic eyes — 
The same happy smile, its rich beauty unfolds, 
Welling up in each glance from the deep-seated soul. 

But since we last parted, how changVl is the day ! 
Old time has swept friends and fortune away ; 
And life has left bare of all fruitage and flowers, 
As a desolate field in winter's bleak hours ; 
And 1, mid that field of disaster and gloom, 
See no consolation, but in the cold tomb. 

But to change ; sister Litha, this is my wife 

{^Looking to his wife.] 

Is now my sole soother, and comfort of life ; 
I lov'd her because of her likeness to thee, 
And gentle as you, she has proven to me. 

SPIRIT OF LITHA. 

(To wife.) 

Sweet wishes, dear sister ; how oft from above, 

I've look'd down upon you, and breath'd out my love. 

WIFE. 

Most welcome, celestial ! — may truth from her throne 
Smile ever upon you, and claim you her own. 

HUSBAND. 

Fair seraph ! I'm longing your history to know. 
Since you took a farewell of this region below ; 



202 

When the unfeeling grave unloaded your bier, 
And we drew the long sigh, and wept the sad tear. 

SPIRIT OF LITHA. 

O, yes ! brother, well I remember that day, 

When spirit forsook that encumbersome clay ; 

Recent freed from the toils of anguish and care, 

On the fleet wings of love, I soarVl through the air ; 

On the one hand was earth, with mountain and plain. 

On the other, lay rolling th' deep-heaving main. 

There, gardens and forests enchanted the sight ! 

Here, waves, like the Andes, dash on in their might I 

Two worlds seem'd expanded, and laid side by side. 

The land^ in its beauty, the sea^ in its pride ! 

While the mountains of one seem'd propping the sky, 

And the voice of the other with the thunder to vie, 

I read over both, in line of great light. 

By the path of the lightning, zizzag and bright, 

" God reions over all in his Love and his misfht.'' 

Then I was caught up as it were in a trance. 

And heaven I saw, reveal'd at a glance. 

But collecting myself, I took the last gaze 

Of earth's winding scenes, and of youth's happy days ; 

Then extended my plumes of faith and of love, 

Which bore me instinctive to regions above; 

As if wing'd by the light, right onward I flew ! 

More splendid the prospect continually grew ; 

Vast suns, with their systems, lay sweeping around 

The throne of Jehovah, their center profound. 

In such beauty serene each planet was wreath'd, 

No fancy can picture, or mind can conceive. 



A husband's lament. 203 

Soon, in the dim distance, there broke on the sight, 
Faint emissions from one of far purer light, 
AYhich, on rapid approach, extended its line, 
And greater soon prov'd than all others combin'd ; 
And as it expand'd in grandeur abroad, 
I saw thereon written, "The Throne of Great God/' 

Bearing thither my flight, very soon was I giv^en 
From th' arms or wide space to the fair lap of heaven, 
Whose grandeur can never be pictured below, 
But "The Word" has been given, 'tis all you should 

know. 
Ever here have I been since death claim'd his sway. 
Or viewing God's worlds as they roll on their way. 

May peace, then, be with you, by penitence bless'd, 
And time will soon waft you to regions of rest. 

HUSBAND. 

My thanks, spotless sister ; I'll strive with my might. 
And hope soon to greet you in that World of Light. 

ALL IN CONCERT. 

O happy the thought — blissful heaven our home — 
Join'd forever in love, o'er creation to roam. 

SPIRIT OF LITHA. 

E'en now, sister spirit, fair angels on high 
Await our return — thither, then, let us fly. 

SPIRIT OF SARAH. 

Yes, of this I'm aware ; but ere we retire. 



^i 



204 A husband's lament. 

[To Husband and Wife.] 

I bid your hearts cheer — pure be your desire, 
And soon we'll assemble, where woes never come, 
Forever to smile in a heavenly home." 

SPIRITS. 

{Sing in concert. ) 
Away, then, we must sever, 

To our homes above we'll fly, 
But part we not forever, 

We meet again, good-bye ! 

We meet again, good-bye ! 

And till that time, good-bye. 

WIFE. 

{Sings in reply.) 

Fair Seraphs, O we love you. 

And would prolong this spell. 
But angels smile above you, 

'Tis there we meet, farewell ! 
'Tis there we meet, farewell ! 
And till that time, farewell ! 

CURTAIN FALLS AND SCENE CLOSES. 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 205 



SMITHFIELD: OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Men. 
SMITHFIELD, the Murderer. 
MoRELAND, the Murdered. 
Hamburg, Brother to Moreland. 
Two Attendants on Smithpield. 
Two Attendants on Hamburg. 
Three Witnesses to duel. 

Women. 
Diannah, Sister to Hamburg, and Wife of Smithfield. 
Spirit of Dilah, former Sister to Diannah. 
Spirit of Silva former Sister to Diannah. 
Spirit of Cretia, former Sister to Diannah. 

SCENE FIRST. 

A room dimly lighted, in tohicJi Moreland is seated, with his head 
leaned forward, and his face between his hands, in a deep cogitating 
nanner, and unobservant of things passing about him. 

Smithfield slily enters, and loith a concealed weapon, stabs him in the 
back, and drags MoukliANd's fallen body from the room. 

[ Curtain falls. ] 

SCENE SECOND. 

A solitary place and almost darkness. Enter Smithfield, pacing the 
stage to and fro, in a restless and uneasy manner. 

SMITHFIELD. 

{Soliloquising.) 

And now my thirsty soul has drank revenge ! 
My eager knife pierced through the very heart 



^06 SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

Of him who hath so deeply injured me, 
And from the wound now gurgles his life blood ! 
Revenge is quenched ! But what says conscience now ? 
That still, small voice is whispering keen reproof. 

The stench arising from this awful deed, 
Calls forth a thousand spectres from the grave, 
Who frown dark, wrathful terrors on my soul; 
Which, tortur'd, reels and shrinks abash'd away ; 
Avaunt, ye spectres grim I these haunts forbear ! 
So arm'd with treble terrors from the tomb ! 

Shame shakes a storm of poison'd arrows down. 
Which arrows thickly pierce my vital parts, 
And from each wound spirts out an angry stream 
Of moral pain, which, mingling, all conjoin 
To swell a raging torrent, coursing to'ard 
The seat of life. It sweeps the fairy fields 
Of peace, bearing each plant and flower away, 
And strews about disjointed rocks and stones ; 
And, rushing on, pours down its inky mass 
Into the guilty caverns of the soul, 
From which there rises up a blacken'd mist. 
And shrouds my sun of purity in gloom. 
No rainbow arches it ; but one hoarse roar 
Shakes its eternal thunders in my ears. 
And seems to call on justice to alight. 
And deal out death to me, as I have dealt. 

Yes, I have murdered him, my worst of foes ! 
And with him murder'd, too, my future joys, 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 207 

And my contentment buried in the grave. 
Guilt, serpent-like, lies coird within my breast — 
Drinks in each pleasure, and each hope consumes, 
And with its venom freights my every breath ; 
And while, deep down, the monster lurks conceaPd, 
Within my eyes he wipes his hissing mouth, 
And, in each look, vibrates his trifork'd tongue. 
And is the world so blind as not to mark 
This hellish demon out ? Oh, filthy breast ! 
This slimy load you bear is worse than death, 
And all the horrors hano^insf in the tomb. 

Come, then, great terminater of mankind, 

And crush me ! But, oh ! death ends not the scene ; 

Eternity draws back its curtain, 

And I see beyond the grave — see there the sea 

Of liquid woe, where angry furies rage. 

And torrents drive their tempests howling o'er 

Those ghostly billows, surging mountain high ; 

Where wreck encounters wreck, with groaning crash, 

And misery looks on misery hollow eyed. 

And there I view — ah, me ! — What can ii be ? 

A furiated form of monster mould ! 

While heinous serpents form its tangling hair. 

What fearful looks leap from its hollow eyes ! 

And its right arm, like some yawning monster, 

Grasps a whip of scorpions, huge and dire, 

And with it beats those waves to crimson foam. 

And writes thereon a name to be abhorr'd : 

^'Torn Conscience Stings, and Source of Endless Woe." 



208 SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

Behold the very victim, bleeding there. 

That these vile, wanton hands have meanly slain ; 

And the fresh vital current flowinfi: from 

The wound, pours down into the greedy maw 

Of this tormentor, waking wrath anew. 

O Time ! — O Eternity ! — for me what rest ? 

But, hark ! I am pursued I Flight, hurried flight, 
Is my sole refuge now, and that a barque, 
A fragile barque, with neither mast or sail. 
Amid dire waves torn by the whirlwind's rage. 

{He starts from tlw stage, looking back as if for some one in pursuit^ 
then stops and gazes anxiously about.'] 

But, hold ! I am detected ! 

^Starts back to the stage and snatches up a knife ichich he has dropped 
in tlie first scene, and which is yet stained with the blood of More- 
land, looking at it.] 

Curse this knife ! 

[Conceals it in his garment.'] 

Hide there, thou heinous thing. I'll meet him bold. 
Enter Hamburg, qmckhj. 

HAMBURG. 

Your reckless hand has spilt my brother's blood ; 

Life scarce as yet has fled the struggling frame — 

The guilty must be near, and only you 

Fill this requirement due. My own strong hand, 

And the law, and deep revenge are on you ; 

For life spilt out from one so dear. 

Then, villain, yield, or feel this ready blade. 



SMITHFIELD : OK, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 209 

8MITHFIELD. 

Avaunt ! audacious insolence ! nor dare 
To trespass thus on spotless innocence, 
Lest the fatal contents of this Aveapon 

{Showing a pistol.) 

Send your guilty spirit to the gloomy shade. 
Hence, you worse than Cain ! for he accused not 
Another of his crime, but bore his guilt 
Alone ; yet he escaped not punishment, 
And you will not, for similar offense. 

HAMBURG. 

Do you insinuate that I have done 

This wrong (' Get you away, and choose your arms. 

Your right hand man — and all things else prepare. 

And meet me here one half hour from this time. 

To spill this life of mine, which yours doth hate. 

Or have your cursed own spilt out by me ; 

Then we shall see who answers for this crime. 

SMITHFIELD. 

{Showing a jJi'^tol. ) 

I will, and this the weapon which I choose ; 
But think you not a second murder to 
Perform, but come yourself prepared to die. 

[E.veunt. 
O 9* 



210 SMITHFIELD : OR. THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 



SCENE THIRD . 

A solitary place, with the same surroundings as above. Enter Diannah, 
pacing to and fro exci 



DIANNAH. 

[Soliloquising.) 

Alas, what sorrow I am doom'd to see I 
What have I witnessed ? What is fate's decree ? 
One brother in the arms of death lies low, 
Slain by the hand of some malignant foe ; 
The other one, prepares, perhaps, to bleed. 
And vainly, to avenge this dark, dark deed ; 
And oft may my grieved spirits, stung with pain, 
Call for revenge for both, and call in vain. 

Oh, this deep ocean, rolling in my breast ! 

Which surges on, and never is at rest ! 

Late cross'd in love — the nuptials had been join'd. 

But disapprov'd b}' these once brothers kind. 

Though now they scoff, I'm still their warmest friend - 

Bear witness, heaven, and angels bright attend ; 

Bleeds not for them my inmost breathing soul ? 

And all its feelings under their control ? 

Ye powers refulgent look from heaven and smile, 

And, oh ! this wounded bosom reconcile 

To the one brother, who as yet remains. 

Heal up these wounds, and soothe these aching pains. 

Say who the murderer of this brother dead. 

And right his wrongs, though he has cursed this head. 



SMITHFIELD . OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 211 

Sweet sister spirits, in Avhom once I joy'd, 

Ere death, with wanton hand, each tie destroy 'd ; 

If still you live, from your bright home above, 

Descend to me on the soft Avings of love, 

And with mild hand each darkened doubt unroll — 

Reveal the guilty, and release my soul. 

Enter Spirits of Dilah, Silva and Cretia, following in train. 

DILAH, SILVA and CRETIA. 
{In concert.) 
Hail, sorrowing sister ! peace thy portion be — 
We come to lighten toil, thy sisters three. 

DIANNAH 

Whom do I view '. How heighten'd are those charms ! 
My Dilah fair, O give thee to my arms. 

\^Attempting to embrace her.] 

DILAH. 

{^Retreating from the attempt.) 

O clasp me not with arms of vital clay ! 

Not to the touch I come ! — away ! away ! 

To sight and mind our mission would be given ; 

For these, and only these, have we forsaken heaven — 

Forbear and let us spend the precious while. 

By interchange of feelings, thoughts and smiles. 

DIANNAH. 

Welcome, Silva ! your presence bless the hours. 

SILVA. 

My thanks be yours, and heaven's genial powers. 



[ITHFIELD : 

DIANNAH. 

And Cretia, too, your smiles, tin angel grace. 

CRETIA. 

If but reflected from your heavenly face. 

DIANNAH. 

My sister spirits, in a happier day, 

You gave me counsel, and indulged ni}^ play ; 

I was the youngest of our sister band ; 

You prais'd my little deeds, and skilFd this hand. 

And when to riper years my powers had grown, 

And reason more securely held her throne. 

We gladly convers'd on each favored theme, 

And joy rollVi on the hours. But as a dream, 

These days — these happy days — forever fled. 

And those of pain and sorrow, came instead. 

In three short weeks, death claimed you all his own, 
And me, your weeping sister, left alone ; 
Long nights I wept, and mourn'd the untold loss. 
And counted earthly treasures all as dross. 

At length, when time had scarr'd the deep made w^und, 

A substitute for you I deem'd I'd found. 

In one whom I had trusted all my heart. 

But friends and brothers play'd the hostile part. 

With him whom I had cherish'd more than friend, 

And vowVl that such relations, all should end ; 

This Cupid rous'd, who, with uplifted arms, 

Call'd on Venus, who increas'd his charms. 



SMITHFIELD : OK, THE FORGIVEN MUKDEK. 213 

Thiis, Victory gave his ever artful power. 

And Hymen crown'd his triumph from that hour. 

A few short months, their happy course have sped — 

And now what follows ^ — see, one brother dead, 

And the red current from the ghastly wound. 

Ghits the vile worm, and feeds the hungry ground ; 

The other, to avenge his wasted life, 

Ere long meets here his foe in fatal strife ; 

The foe, suspected guilty, yet unknown, 

Seeldng his life, in danger of his own — 

I heard the challenge — a short time sees the deed, 

And who can say which one is doonrd to bl,eed '( 

From heaven-mission'd, O exert your power — 
Avert the storm of this ill-fated hour. 
And change this scene of discord into love, 
EnduM with holy feelings from above. 

DILAH. 

Diannah fair, your ever noble soul 

Merits the light of heaven ; we would console 

Your downcast spirit — be you ever cheer'd — 

All shall be well, and you to all endear 'd. 

These hostile acts, subversive of all joy, 

Shall change to love, and love without alloy ; 

The murderer shall be known, and be forgiven, 

And leconciFd to you, to God, to heaven. 

Though darkest storms hang threat'ning in your sky, 

The raorroic spreads her fjiirest blue on high. 

And joy and peace, with all their heaven-born charms, 

Shall fold you, smiling, in their quiet arms. 



214 SMITHFIELD I OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

DIANNAH. 

O, sister, ever worthy, ever dear, 

'Tis yours to bless, and yours, the griev'd, to cheer. 

I knew you once, as generous as now, 

But with less power to bid your blessings flow. 

Your wings from grief shall shelter ine, I trow. 

And your bless'd arms shall stem the tide of woe; 

And all my wrongs, by right shall overthrow 

With means which mortal powers can never know. 

And, Silva, say, what do you bring to me. 
In th' fullness of your heart and bosom free i 

SILVA. 

I have sued Great Mercy's seat, 
To lay his blessings at your feet. 
Whose genial showers are gathering now, 
To bathe with balm your fever'd brow. 
The sweets of life will soon be thine. 
Brought in the arms of love, and mine; 
Your pathway strewn with pleasure's flowers, 
Cull'd by afiection's hands, and ours; 
Approving spirits, the meanwhile, 
Hand down to you the hopeful smile. 
Which as a wreath your brow shall wear. 
Instead of this dark cloud of care. 
These are the blessings I have brought, 
By earnest supplication wrought. 
And thus your welfare I have sought. 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 215 

DIANNAH. 

Thanks, sister dear, ere snapp'd life's vital chain, 
One toy house serv'd us, and one bed contain'd; 
E'en then, your cheerful spirit ever bright, 
Made all things laugh about you with delight; 
And still I view those same refulgent eyes, 
Touch'd by the star-lit glories of the skies. 
With power to shed their care-dispelling rays. 
Of moral light o'er all my future ways; 
And gives me promis'd light of joy and cheer. 
Where dark despair sat gloomy, cold and drear. 

But, Cretia, I see the crimson on your cheek 
Blush innocence, and your mouth long to speak ; 
Speak, and reveal what is your mind's desire — 
Say what emotions pure your bosom fire — 
The music of your voice was wont to charm. 
And each malignant feeling all unarm. 

CRETIA. 

In times just flown, my dear, I've heard your prayers, 
Saw your breast burthen'd with increiising cares ; 
Of stormy woes I strove to quell the wrath. 
And hung a gilded rainbow o'er your path, 
But like the rainbow of the rising morn, 
'Twas pillow'd on a dark, approaching storm. 
To-day, that storm has broke upon your head ; 
Though shortly hush'd, aot all its wrath is sped — 
'Twill burst anew, with darkness in its frown. 
Pouring thick pain, and double anguish down ; 
But calm you, and lift up your eyes meanwhile — 



lllb SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

Here, rolls the tempest, there, the heavens smile, 
The storm cloud passes soon, and clears away. 
And 'merging from that clond, the king of da}^ 
Lauo^hs from above in Hoods of cheerful lis^ht. 
To chase from out your soul the shades of night ; 
But he at last will, 'neath the hills decline. 
But countless stars of joy, no less divine. 
Shall deck your skies, and in his absence shine. 
Till death's cold sleep shall with a welcome hand, 
Bear off your spirit to a brighter land ; 
For this, I've supplicated heaven's throne. 
For this, received consent — this, be your own. 

DIANNAH. 

Receive my gratitude, my sister bright — 
Heaven sheds on you its own superior light ; 
'Twas yours to lighten grief while yet a child, 
By earnest prayer to bring down heaven's smile. 
And Silva's, then, to crown fair pleasure's bowl, 
With all the fullness of her cheerful soul ; 
And Dilah, always doing as she should. 
Then sought to turn each action for my good. 

The same bright gifts your bosoms now adorn, 
With greater skill to quell each rising storm ; 
Thy gift of prayer to me, then, seem VI to be 
To heaven's mercy gate the very key ; 
That gift has grown, as ripen'd you in grace, 
Till all its fullness shines within your face. 
And Silva^ now, as then, her hands employ, 
To light, Avith toucli divine, the torch of joy ; 



SMITHFIKLD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 21T 

And Dilah^ ever faithful to her trust. 
Still strives to change the bad to good and just, 
With purer heart and greater power to swell. 
The tide that shapes each counter-current well. 

O, those bright, sunny days, forever flownj 
When we were as a band of sisters known — 
O. how I long to wing myself on high. 
With you, to join your counsels in the sky. 

But, hark ! e'en now, they come, prepared for light. 
Madness their hearts control, and tires their sight ; 
From heaven missioned, this dark storm assuage, 
Quell their hearts' hatred, and dispel their rage. 

Enter with his seconds, hastily, 
HAMBURG. 

Why — say, rebellious sister — ■ here this nour t 
The deeds soon here to be performed ill tit 
A woman's eyes. Who else attends ? What guests 
Are these ? whose miens and forms bespeak of worth 
111 fitting you, regardless of all shame. 

DILAH. 

{To Hamburg.] 

Cease such reproach, proud brother, and that sneer. 

How thou art changxl ! with what disgust I hear ; 

Not so in other days, when we once fed 

Around one common table — then instead 

Of such rebuke, unruffled mildness flow'd 

From your then youthful lips, and your eyes glow'd 

10 



218 SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

With virtue's tires ; and on your brow the blaze 

Of rising wisdom nobly sat ; we gazed, 

And heard your words with more than sisters' due — > 

And merits she for this, insults from you I 

O, say ! where is your sense of manhood gone, 

Which once we sisters proudly gazVl upon ? 

And all those manly traits we loved to own ? 

Have they from you away forever flown ? 

O, with that flame, your bosom fire anew, 

And greet us, brother, as you used to do. 

HAMBURG. 

What ! these, my sisters, that long since had died ? 
O, where the triumphs of the tomb to hide 
The mouldering dead \ Or, what unlocks the skies, 
And bids the deathless forms before me rise ? 
Such spotless beauty ne'er has mortals bore, 
\En,ter Smithfield, with seconds?^ 

A flame from the same spark that oft before 
I've proudly view'd. 

[Enter three witnesses.'] 

SMITHFIELD. 
[To Hamburg, abruptly.'] 
Let conversation cease. 
Now, time admits you not to make your peace 
With heaven — death stoops to close your shameful day. 
And demons rise to meet your soul half way. 
Th' appainted moments for revenge draw nigh ; 
For these prepare — but with those moments, die. 



SMITHFIELD .* OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 219 



HAMBURG. 

I am prepard, and with this weapon bold, 

[Shoioing a pistot.] 

To hell's wide gulf will add one wailing soul. 

[Di<mnah qiUckly forces herself between them.] 
DIANNAH. 

O cease this feud ! what shame for heaven to view - 
A scene like this twixt any mortal two ! 

[To Hainbnry.] 
But, brother, if you disregard my plea, 
Look on yon corse — look on this deathless three ; 
These, breathing kind reproofs, now say, forbear ; 
That, rising from the shade, •' Beware ! Beware ! '^ 

[To Smithfield, in sur2)?'ise.] 
And stands my husband, party to a cause 
Like this? — yourself be, and one moment pause I 
Was it for this that I forsook my all, 
And gave it unto you? O what a pall 
Hangs o'er my dreary heart ! — shuts out the light, 
While deeper down, amid the darkest night, 
Care wars with care, and woe with deeper woe, 
And blind to pain, stride madly to and fro. 
O these detested broils ! — why can't they cease ? 
Choke anger down, and breathe the balm of peace : 
Say to your inward rage, " Forbear to burn." 
Look in thy heart — if there, the fault, discern ; 
Or, if in his, lift up your voice to heaven. 
For pardon sue, or, him to be forgiven. 
Revenge, if for revenge you would prolong ; 
You heap but crime on crime, and wrong on wrong.. 



f 

220 SMITHFIELD I OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

And the dread scene shall dark and darker grow, 
Till justice stoops, and deals the fatal blow ; 
Then, quite too late, your plea will be denied ; 
Consider, then, and quell this shameful pride. 

SMITHFIELD. 

[Urairtiif/ her to o fie side,] 

Aside, my dear one, urge me not to shame, 
He gave the challenge ; why should I refrain ? 

[To II(i)/ibti/y.] 

Then, forward straight, and fill your cursM desire ; 
The signal now be given. 

FIRST WITNESS. 

One, two, three — Fire ! 
\Both fire at once. Diaunah ntfiJung beticeen the/a and recelces a wound.^ 

DIANNAH. 

Oh, Will ! your ball has drank my blood — the smart 
I feel — would it had pierced my very heart ! 
How dark it grows ! O that pale death would rise 
And veil these scenes from my disgusted eyes. 

SMITHFIELD. 

[To Diaannh.] 

Diannah, let me bind the bleeding wound. 
For now, till a more skillful hand be found. 

[BimU the wound with a, white IimidkercJiief.] 

DIANNAH. 

[To Hamburg.] 

O, brother I if that name was ever dear, 



SMITHFIKLD : OR, THE FOKGIVKN MURDER. 221 

Or, if M .sister's voice can reach your ear, 

Hear tliis, my earnest prayer : Be yours the fault — 

Confess it here. Confession will exalt 

You in the sight of heaven, and all mankind ; 

But kept lock'd up, will drive you mad and blind. 

To condemnation and your own disgrace. 

Which neither time nor fortune can efface. 

Then, ere you k^ap the cataract thundering near. 

Turn from your froward course, and shoreward steer. 

[To StuithJiekL] 
And, consort, thou, if this, now" sever'd vein. 
Pouring my life away, doth cause 3^ou pain. 
And from your bosom, force a secret sigh — 
Or, if you 'd drop one tear to see me die — 
If e'er you lov'd, and do not now despise. 
Be wise to-day, say where the error lies. 
The secret knowledge of your breast unfold — 
Guilty or not, speak out without control. 
Perhaps a stranger hand the wa-ong has done, 
While these serve as a veil to shut the sun 
From his retreating path, screen him from view, 
That he may better flee the vengeance due. 

cease, against all right thus to rebel — 
The shame of heaven, and the sport of hell. 

8MITHFIELD. 

1 stand reprov'd — I ^vould I had before — 
Torn is my bosom, bleeding, my heart's core, 
Provok'd to anger, anger, guilt unrollM. 
Which as a cloud now hangs above my soul. 
Whose thunders roll and lightnings flash around, 



222 SMITHFIELD I OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 

And each sped bolt strikes still a deeper wound ; 
I turn to flee, when, lo ! death foaming wide. 
Rolls it dread torrent on the other side. 
What shall I do ! Shall I my guilt conceal ? 
Reproving voices here whisper, " Reveal ! " 
I will, for pain'd with guilty conscience's stings, 
What joys ? what pleasures can existence bring ? 
Then I speak, though the forfeiture be death. 
But may God pardon when is hush'd my breath. 

Hear ye then me, but censure not too strong, 

And while you weigh the crime, weigh too the wrong. 

I did the murder of this lifeless man ; 

This heart has wilPd it, and perform'd, this hand. 

While both these eyes witnessed the very same. 

And these ears heard the groans I dare not name ; 

And the blood-written record is within. 

Of this abhorr'd and most detested sin. 

Yet this deed had a cause. Not only he 
Opposed the union you desired with me, 
But when he saw his each foul means had faiPd, 
He, with a double battery assail'd 
Our character, our fortune, and our fame. 
And laid the plan whereby to sap the same ; 
And would, had not my anger broke control. 
And laid his form disseverVl from the soul. 

You have this monster, now, which has long weigh'd 
Down this shut heart and shook a craggy blade. 

\_Diaiinah turns away and covers her face.'] 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 223 

O, my aear wife, with scorn tuni not away — 
Spurn not this aching bosom ; stay ! oh, stay ! 
Let all the world strike deep the vengeful blow. 
But you, dear consort, stay, and soothe my woe. 

[Dia/mah looks at him a>tite)npfN(H/s!//.'\ 

Withhold those looks, worse than daggers to the heart, 
They pierce my soul, and sting the deathless part ; 
Forgive, great heaven — forgive, Eternal God ! 
I heretofore havefiar^d, now, tremhle^ for thy rod. 

yTo H(iinburg.~\ 

And you, if in these pains no satisfaction find. 
Take this red dagger, here, I am resigned ; 

[Dniiniuff out a concealed knife, blood stained.'] 

It spilt the blood of him who now lies low — 
Take it, and strike the longVl-for, revengeful bloiw. 
Plunge deep, until the life-fed, wreaking blade 
Glut your revenge ; and death's eternal shade 
Seals up these eyes, and clasps this form around. 
As ray freed spirit rushes from the wound. 

HAMBURG. 

[Taking the dagger or knife.] 

I take revenge ! Nay, curs'd be this guilty steel — 
It were as if its point e'en now I feel. 
Deep rankling in my heart. 

[Throws tlie knife doion spitefully.] 

Lay there, curs'd knife, 
I hate you. You have drank the ebbing life 
Of one — you may not — shall not, drink of two — 
On thee, my brother's late heart's blood I view, 



224 SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN 3IURDER. 

Deep anguish-causing sight ! Oh, how I rue 
Your hated power ! O ever murderous bkide ! 
But why dumb steel condemn, and not upbraid 
Myself? Woe to the day when first this feud began, 

[To Binnnah.] 

And we oppos'd your union with this man ; 

For whosoever wars with Cupid's charm. 

Receives but wounds from his victorious arms. 

Yes, love and confidence were once our own. 

And Joy look'd down from her inviting throne. 

And smil'd — we lived, rejoiced — from day to day, — 

Each in the other's weal — flowers strew'd our way. 

And friendship, with a golden chain, bound heart 

To heart. Pale death shot first his hideous dart. 

And broke the ring. Then came this man, your choice 

We, wondering, raised at first a chiding voice. 

Soon opposition, s/ioicted o'er the scene, 

And mountains rose and thrust themselves between ; 

I need repeat no more. What see we here ? 

Enough to drench a brazen eye ^vith tears. 

And who can say w here all this feud shall end ? 

O be my sister still — 

[To Hamburg.] 

be thou my friend. 
And heaven look down, and pardon every wrong, 
And stop these woes, nor longer wrath prolong. 

DILAH. 

[To HambuiY/-] 
Hear, Hamburg, what your sister has to say, 
Now spirit, once, inhabitant of clay : 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 225 

All Pardoning Mercy hears your prayer, 
And each dark cloud bids vanish into air ; 
For this sad murder he requires no life-- 
'Twas paid by injuries done to him and wife. 
That was with such malicious feelings rife, 
As near to justify this mortal strife. 

{Toalll 

Let every hostile thought now die away, 

And friendship rise, and crown a happier day, 

And joy and bliss in life shall be your own. ^ 

And after this, a beautiful unknown. 

SILVA. 

{Sings. Tune : Sweet by and by.) 
And the angels in glory above, 

Thick around you their blessings shall strew, 
And shall give you the hand of their love, 
Which shall lead you to life that is true. 
[CJionis of "Sweet by and by."] 

In the sweet by and by, by and by, 
In the sweet by and by, by and by. 

We shall meet on that beautiful shore, by and by, 
In the sweet by and by, by and by, 
In the sweet by and by, by and by. 

We shall meet on that beautiful 

CRETIA. 
{Sings. Tune as above.) 
Now, dear sisters, supernal and bright, 

Quick as thought, let us wing our long way 
To our home in the regions of light, 
And where dwelleth the Father of day. 



226 



SMITHFIELD : OR, THE FORGIVEN MURDER. 



[Repeat tune of first fom^ lines.] 
There extended is that happy shore, 

Where the saints of all ages shall meet, 
And we all in his smiles evermore, 

One another in kindness will ojreet. 



[Follow chorus of "Sweet by and by,'' 

closes.] 



curtain drops and scene 



CONCLUSION. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 227 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 



DRAMATIS PERSONJE. 

Tom Moore, Chooser of Three Loves or Beauties, 

Father of First Beauty. 

Father op Third Teauty. 

Lawyer, attending on Father of First Beauty. 

Servant, attending. 

Ladies. 
First Beauty. Second Beauty. Third Beauty. 

Rumor, a Gossiping Old WomaB. 

PROL OGUE. 

We give you in this drama, our Tom Moore, 

Who for love's sake, three Avorthy beauties chose, 

And vow'd to each, that faithful he 'd endure 
Through all life's changes to its final close; 

And he was shrewd and deep, a fine young man, 

And knew just how to take one by the hand. 

He was all-skillful tying a cravat, 

And as for playing with a lady's sleeve, 

Petting her poodle, and all this and that, 
I do not think — at least, can not believe. 

That you would very likely be to catch 
In all creation wide, his full, fair match. 



228 THE THREE BEAUTIES I OR, TOM MOORE. 

Then he could quote Lord B^^ron, Chitty, Bright, 
Eldred, Joe Benson, Hume, and half a score 

That I can't even think of. He Avould cite, 
Cowper, Dryden, Shakespear, and many more, 

To prove a swallow could not be a dove. 

And consequently friendship was not love. 

Such proofs, and such authority, he VI bring, 
Attention for to gain, and chain the mind ; 

To clear his points, and show each was the thing, 
Though stood opposed, the rest of all mankind. 

Against such reasoners, though inclined to doubt. 

Who in an argument could long hold out ? 

They say, he studied law, which I don't doubt — 
Woman and many other things, I'm told. 

And these, God bless you, he knew all about ; 
And could interpret dreams, and fate unfold. 

And this y'outh liv'd — for any thing I know 

He may be living yet somewhere — although 

Thafs somewhat doubtful, suicides are common 
And I have knoAvn a case in my short day. 

Where only one, bewitching, lovely woman. 
Led half a dozen, youths^ sad wits, astray, 

So far, that these unfortunate young men, 

Plung'd into a river, and — sivam out again. 

Now, if one beauty, thus full half a dozen 

Could cause to open act, so desperate. 
Of him who had three worthy beauties chosen. 



i 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR. TOxM MOORE. 229 

What, think you, must have been the fate ? 
The answer, gentle hearers, you'll agree, 
Can be obtained by double rule of three. 

And by this rule, our statement we will make, 
Arrange our figures, a's, and b's. and y's. 

And then to demonstrate, we'll undertake, 
If you will lend us all your ears and eyes ; 

And his chagrin and great dilemma show. 

Who had too many strings tied to his bow. 



SCENE FIRST. 

A private roonij in which is seated First Beauty. Enter Tom Moore. 

TOM MOORE. 

Good evening, my f^iir. Quite a fine pleasant day ; 
How is your father's family, and thee 'i 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

All are in health, I am much pleas'd to say ; 
Glad you have calFd — I've been lonesome for me. 

TOM MOORE. 

No more glad than I, if I might be judge, 
There is nothing more pleasant than to lay by 

Old musty books, and forsaking the drudge. 
Go out in the world, and from the dark eye. 

Read lessons of beauty, as Byron would say. 
Or sun my tired spirits in your sweet smiles. 



230 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

As a Scott has rehears'd ; for, by the way, 

There is no one hke you can my moments beguile. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Flattery enough 1 I am sure I shall find 
That true, only give time, its trying course ; 

But tliat is the way of all mankind^ 

And yet I don't know that we are the worse. 

TOM MOORE. 

Flattery ? O, no ! 'tis the depth of my heart. 
To such things as that, I never resort ; 

And who besides you is there shares a part . 
Of my very thoughts ? there is none of that sort. 

Then be not remiss, but faithful and true, 

As I am to you, wherever I go ; 
The which in the future, you will not rue. 

But wonder, to trust me, why you were slow. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

O, if you are in earnest, then I would say, 
I never have dream'd such a thing until now ; 

Never doubted your word — will not to-day — 
But time for reflection, sure, you'll allow ? 

TOM MOORE. 

Yes, any thing but the bhmt answer, '• No." 
Say I can hope, joy smiles from its throne ; 

To meet with you is bliss, to sever, woe, 

And though in crowds, without you, I'm alone. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 231 

Search, then, your bosom — learn your own desire 
And to unwavering purpose fix your mind ; 

Consult all those concern'd, mother and sire, 
And when we meet again, be all defin'd. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

I will, and time shall tell the tale, wrong or right, 
And shall determine fate. 

TOM MOORE. 

Good-night. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Good-night. 
[Exit Tom Moore, and scene closes.l 



SCENE SE COND. 

A piivate library, Father of First Beauty, seated at a desk, loriting. 
Etiter First Beauty. 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

My dear, what secret care hangs on your brow ? 

Why come you here at this my musing hour ? 
I've ever sought your welfare — seek it now — 

O speak, and to relieve, I lend my power. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

A youth has sought the fiivor of my heart, 
A youth of manners, polish'd and refin'd. 



232 THE THREE BEAUTIES I OR, TOM MOORE. 

Skilled- well, yes, prosperous in the legal art 
'Tis said, and has a well develop'd mind. 

Perhaps you are acquaint ; Tom Moore's his name. 
Though he is young, it may have reach'd your ear, 

For rumor says, he's not unknown to fame ; 
And he^ that I am to Idm doubly dear. 

He wishes me now speedily to learn, 

My own intentions and heart-felt desires. 

To counsel you, and all it may concern ; 

And, say, what hopes may feed afiection's fire. 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

Yes, I know him well, and deep in his eye, 
I read the vile — deep-laid, the trickster's snare ; 

Be watchful of it, as the crow, and shy. 
Lest it should prove your ruin and despair 

And you to be my undeserved shame ; 

Yea, shun him as you would the serpent vile, 
This house of mine his visits ne'er shall stain, 

I bid you fear his ever dangerous guile. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Father, ungrounded prejudice has stirr'd 

This hostile feeling in your breast, most sure ; 

For one so gentle in each act and word. 

Must, in each inward thought, be kind and pure. 

Besides, he loves me, as he loves his soul. 
And this, my bosom would that love return. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 233 

And for your will can I that flame control ? 
Which, kindled, now begins to brightly burn ? 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

Urge me not thus — you understand my mind ; 

I'd rather, far, the grave would open wide. 
And swallow you, in death's pale shroud confin'd. 

Than his false arms should clasp you as his bride. 

E'en though he loves you, as he loves his soul, 
'Twould be unworthy of the slightest trust, 

For you, less ardent than the sparkling bowl, 
And that, to satiate a meaner lust. 

Hear, then, my words, nor dare to disobey : 

If ere he cross the threshold of my door. 
You shall not welcome him, or bid him stay, 

But I will say, " Depart forevermore. 
Lest you, the vengeance of this arm shall feel, 

Expletive of my just awaken'd wrath." 
Your heart against him, O, my daughter, steel, 

And Avhen I point to danger, shun the path. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Father, in ail things else, I heed your will. 

In this, how can I, when my all is lost ? 
I've loved you as a daughter should — do, still — 

But love I have for him, that love exhausts. 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

Do as you will, my child ; but know, above 
Is ruin, hanging on a single hair, 
10* 



234 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

If you forsake my counsel and my love, 
And headlong rush — to what ? — no one knows where. 

{Exit First Beauty, and scene closes.^ 



SC E NE T H I RD . 

The pridate room of First Beauty, she icalking therein in a contempla- 
tii^e manner, soliloquising. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Ah, where am I ? — in what ill-fated land i 

Conflicting powers war 'round my weary head. 

And anxious cares rolling on either hand. 
Toss me with love, and with a father's dread. 

O Love ! invincible to every foe I 

Say, why unbidden tenant now my breast ? 

Why flies your arrow from its fated bow. 
Dealing sweet pain, and killing all my rest ? 

Shall I for you neglect my father's will ? 

And he, who taught my childhood, disobey ? 
What measures do you take for to fulfill 

Your ends'? What fancied garlands strew youi* way ? 

No, I will not, though thorny seem the way, 
Forsake where honest duty points the path; 

And lured by nuptial joys, wander astray. 
And a reap a just reward, a parent's wrath. 



1 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 235 

Long — long, opposing object in my mind, 
Like wild conflicting elements have fought ; 

Alternate conquering as the shifting mind, 
And save an inward war, avails me naught. 

But now, this thought, ''I owe myself to him. 
Who bids me not to love," weighs down the scale^ 

And drive away the clouds of doubt, which skim 
Across my skies, with a victorious gale. 

But, list ! his well known footsteps now I hear. 
Approaching nigh, all anxiously, to know 

What my conclusions are ; — trembling with fear — 
And shall I deal to him unwilling vv^oe ? 

O! causing-grief ! Oh ! brooding dark despair ! 

[Bell rings. ] 

But here he is ; ye trembling fears, begone. 
[Opens door.] 
Good evening, friend. 

TOM MOORE. 
[Enter/ ng.] 
Peace be with you, my fair. 
How often I have watchVl, the wish'd-for dawn 

Of this important day, on which life-time, 
As weight of mountains on a pebble stone. 

Seems poised — the future, grandly balanc'd here. 
To weigh Avherever you may will, alone ; 

To rise, and in the perfect sunshine glow 

Of long-sought, nuptial joys ; or, weighing down, 



236 THE THREE BEAUTIES I OR, TOM MOORE. 

To sink enveloped in the deepest woe, 

Where dark despair, and sharp vexations frown. 

Speak, in the glance of whose full eye, 
I see a thousand feelings rise and swell. 

Each breathing out my life-long destiny — 
Say, what are these ? O, may not all be well ? 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

I fear to speak what lately father vow'd. 
Whose voice, stern duty calls me to obey ; 

Alas ! which now hangs as a sable cloud, 
Of disappointment o'er my future way. 

He bids me shun you as a dangerous man, 
Nor cherish one soft feeling of the heart, 

Lest I should curse the moment it began, 
And rue the day, when Cupid shot his dart. 

I am resolv'd to listen to his voice ; 

Then urge me not to disobey his will ; 
Though mine be different from my father's choice, 

I owe myself to him, and his am still. 

TOM MOORE. 

O, such are but the laws, which bind mankind. 
In turn, the risen, to the rising race ; 

Father, to child, to swell the buddins: mind. 

Which, when matur*d, depends on its own base ; 

Plans its own prospects for its future life. 
Woman to choose her own companion then. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES I OR, TOM MOORE. 23 T 

And man at will to single out his wife ; 
For these, we look to God, and not to men. 

Whate'er 3'^our sire has done, you owe him naught, 

It came through nature's universal law, 
Forc'd from his iron bosom all unsought. 

And bids you now, your own conclusions draw 

O ! if one tender feeling in your breast 

There lives for me, O, speak ! — do not conceal 

What God has planted there, but its behest 
Obey ; and all the fruit will then be weal. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

This is an argument ; your words seem true. 
Not by human aid, but by divine, we live 

The latter, bids me deeply cherish you. 

And frankly to confess — O, then, forgive ! 

But what avails ? My father's aim will be 
To thwart our own, and cross our every path, 

Which leads that way. Stern and keen-eyed is he, 
And who can brook the terror of his wrath ? 

TOM MOORE. 

We need not brook it. Keep this matter still. 

I will not meet you at your father's home. 
But here and there, which manag'd so with skill, 

That he will not suspect, till time has flown. 

And riveted the chain so firm and strong. 
He dare not 'tempt its golden links to sever ; 



238 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

But knowing where propriety belongs, 
Will bless and sanction it, I trust, forever. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Would that he might ; but, oh ! I quake for fear, 
Nevertheless, I'll listen to your word, 

The which, in each extremity, I'll hear. 

Such feelings deep, youVe in my bosom stirr'd. 

TOM MOORE. 

Then I Avould say, that when we meet again, 

Be it, at our friend John's — he pleads the right ; 
This to conceal will be his utmost aim. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Ageed 'tis there we meet. 

TOM MOORE. 

Good-night. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Good-night. 

[Curtain falls, and scene 610868.1 



S CE NE FOURTH . 

A sick room, ami Father of First Beauty on his death bed, an attendant 
at his side. 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

Pale death is over me, my life is short — 
But ere its close, I wish to make my will ; 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR. TOM MOORE. 239 

And. therefore, to a lawyer please resort, 
That he, for me my orders may fulfill. 

[Exit attendant, and soon returning with a lawyer.'] 
LAWYER. 

I have arriv'd, my honor'd sir. How fare 
You, now. 

FATHER OF FIRST BEAUTY. 

Trembling, I stand on life's last verge ; 
Grim death and doom upon my features stare, 
And you to this most solemn duty urge ; 

Lest life's snapp'd cord, forever seals this tongue ; 
Make haste, and legally indite my will. 

LAWYER. 

Most quickly, sir ; no quicker said than done. 

[Seating himself to icrite.] 

I am prepared your mandates to fulfill. 

FATHER. 

My upper farm, known as the Lees Estate, 

I give my only son, and add thereto, 
All goods and chattels found thereon, this date ; 

And all my bonds, and notes, now coming due. 

This, the old homestead, I bequeath my wife, 
And all its fixtures likewise grant to her ; 

Dear solace, sweet companion of my life. 
Would I could health and happiness confer. 



24:0 THE THREE BEAUTIES I OR, TOM MOORE. 

And there's my daughter, darling of my heart, 
I give to her full twenty thousand pounds ; 

I fear, alas, the victim of a subtle art, 

Freedom from Avhich, would be a greater boon. 

O God, if thou dost hear a dying groan, 
Or listen to an earnest voice in prayer, 

shield my daughter from this wretch unknown^ 
And save her from disgrace, if not despair. , 

You've written down my order ? 

LAWYER. 

Yes. 

FATHER. 

That's all. 
The rest, the laws of this my state, divide. 
But as you leave, please my dear daughter call, 
Tell her, I wish to see her by my side. 

[Exit Lawyer, and soon enters First Beauty.] 
FIRST BEAUTY. 

1 greet you, father, with a daughter's love , 
How can I aid you in your latest breath ? 

O that some guardian spirit from above. 

With visions fair, might dull the shafts of death. 

FATHER. 

The sharpest shaft, which pierces me, my dear, 
And wounds my heart, and cleaves my very soul, 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 24:1 

You ca?i vnthdraio — can my last moments cheer, 
And e'en in death my parting life console. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

What is that shaft ? Tell me, that I may aid. 

While yet a child 'twas my delight to cheer ; 
Why bosom now your grief ? and why afraid ? 

FATHER. 

O. then, dear daughter, my last counsel hear : 

And say, ere my last, fated breath be tried, 

(And we parted be, alas, forever,) 
That you will not become this Tom Moore's bride — 

To which could I consent ? Ah ! Never ! Never ! 

O, if you've ever honored me in life, 

Or noTV, would drop one tear within my grave, 

Say you will not become this young man's wife, 
Then, happy I shall die ; as, you to save. 

[Daughter weej)S without words.] 

Why weeps my child ? Have I not been her friend ? 

Have I not ever shielded and caress'd ? 
Have not my counsels prov'd her good in th' end ? 

Then, why thus grieve, at this my last request ? 

E'en now, when I would guide her steps aright. 

And life is flickering as a dying lamp ? 
When death before me spreads a dismal night. 

And "round me, clouds as gloom\', cold and damp 'i 

Q 11 



242 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

O promise ! — while life's current warms my veins, 
Just for a dying father's sake, if all ; 

Be quick — the vital spark scarce yet remains — 
I sink, alas ! and death receives the fall. 

[Father of Mrst Beauty dies, cartain falls and scene closes.l 



SCENE FIFTH. 

A private aparUnent, where First Beauty is seated, dressed in mourning. 
Enter Tom Moore 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Good evening, Tom. 

TOM MOORE. 

I grieve with you, my fair. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Ah ! — changed indeed, the scene since we last met ; 

Where joy then smil'd, now frowns as deep despair. 
He having died, to whom I owe life's debt. 

Alas ! — how fleeting is each earthly joy ! 

'Twas but as yesterday, fair pleasures smil'd, 
To-day, death reigning, all my peace destroys, 

And, me dejected, leaves, an orphan child. 

TOM MOORE. 

Grieve not too deeply at this loss, my dear, 

Which hangs so weighty on your drooping heart ; 



THE THREJE beauties : OR, TOM MOORE. 243 

There's not a woe, but brings some little cheer. 
And not a loss, but has some gain in part. 

•Your sire, though dead, blest heaven his spirit owns — 
A thousand pleasures on your walks attend ; 

And this joy greets you now, before unknown, 
" To freely own me as your bosom friend." 

No opposition now doth cross our way. 

The current of our love may smoothly glide, 
Till dawns on us that doubly happy day. 

When all the world shall know you as my bride. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

But, oh ! — can I neglect to heed that voice, 

Which plead, while death was rattling in its tone, 

And bade me not to take you for my choice. 
And ask'd my pledge in an expiring groan ? 

TOM MOORE. 

And did you promise ? 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

No, I held my breath. 
While tears cours'd down my cheeks. He saw my grief, 
And said, " Why weeps my child?* What ! now in death 
Can she not promise for a sire's relief? " 

Those pleading words felt for my inmost soul. 
And rous'd up feelings all before unstirr'd, 

Tears gush'd afresh — I self could scarce control. 
And was about to pledge, when death occurr'd, 



24:4: THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

And cut me short. Oh ! what a life I live, 
Betwixt opposing aims, tossed to and fro ! 

Could he have said but once, ''I do forgive," 

It would have sav'd me this. — What pain ! what woe ! 

But now, when shall these constant bick'rings cease ^ 
Which as wild wolves rave 'round my vital breast. 

Insatiate still, devouring all my peace, 

And with their hateful jaws mangle my rest. 

TOM MOORE. 

O, cease, my dear, to ponder on such things, 
Which can but perfect wretchedness awake. 

And leave behind the most tormenting stings. 
O cease ! for mine, and for your safety sake. 

Your father's soul will pardon you, most sure. 
While looking from the place to where it's gone, 

Will see your love so ardent, fond and pure, 
And whisper from above, " My girl, love on." 

FIRST BEAUTY- 

O that it might, and I could plainly hear — 

How chang'd from woe to joy, my lot would be, 

My one delight would be yourself to cheer. 
My daily object, truly loving thee. 

TOM MOORE. 

You can most plainly hear, through reason's voice, 
Your father seeks your good, and now his mind. 

Discerning deeper, will approve your choice. 
Perceiving where before he err'd, as blind. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 245 

Then let us love iit once, as we should love, 

Firmly conficlino^ in each other's trust, 
Each error overlook, each wrong forgive — 

'Tis ours to happy be, we can, we must. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

I heed, Tom Moore, and I will love you still — 
My father, O ! forgive ! My feelings sway 

Me as the winds and ensign — at their will, 

But crown'd with hope, promise a brighter day. 

TOM MOORE. 

Then reassured that all is well, we part. 
Repose on me your confidence and trust, 

And nothing shall betray it from my heart, 
Of which you have the key. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

If, must, I must. 

TOM MOORE. 

Good-night. May angels fold you in their arms, 
And bless your slumbers with enchanting dreams. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Good-night. May God protect you from all harm. 
And may you prove as worthy as you seem. 

[Exit Tom Moore, and scene closes,] 



246 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 



SCENE SIXTH. 

PrwaU apartirnenU in which Second Beauty is walking slowly to and fro. 
Enter Tom Moore. 

TOM MOORE. 

Hail, beaut'ous girl, with such soul-speaking eyes, 
That my profoundest feelings oft do move, 

By richer glories than the sparkling skies, 
Stretch'd out at eve, in elegance and love. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

O what a burst of flattery, Tom Moore — 
Blasphemy to the skies — your own disgrace ; 

'Tw^ere justice, if yon arch, so soft and pure. 
Should always hide from you its smiling face ; 

That you should me, a creature of the dust, 

Claim to esteem above its worth divine. 
From w^hence flows every good — O how unjust ! 

Besides, such things avail me naught, nor mine 



TOM MOORE. 

My gentle girl, O be not too severe, 

Because I liken'd to the azure skies 
Those glowing orbs of yours, to me more dear 

Than all things else, which my aftections prize. 

The skies look down, and smile through tranquil blue 
Through sparkling glories, show a work divine ; 



I 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 247 

You smile, amid the same soul-touching hue, 
Like glories of the stars your glances shine. 

There's none more loves to gaze on yon fair skies, 
And feast on all their wond'rous charms by night ; 

None love so well, to look on those fair et/es. 
And drink their floods of intellectual light. 

As proof of this, say you will be my own, 
And place your private seal upon my heart. 

And all the treasures here within, you'll own. 
And I Avill gladly act the husband's part. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

cease, Tom Moore, thus foolishly to jest — 
Not such a thought, not such a wish is thine; 

To faithfully fulfill such a request, 

Is not your own heart-felt desires, nor mine. 

TOM MOORE. 

If there's a God in the high heaven above, 
Who sways the earth submissive at his feet, 

1 swear by him, that thee I only love, 
Which to conceal, Avould be a foul deceit. 

And may Pe shut this mouth, and close these eyes, 

And hush forever, this life-giving part. 
If every look of yours with sacred ties. 

Twine not the very fibers of my heart. 

O let us mingle soul with swelling soul, 

A.nd warm affection's hand, to hand b(^ press' d, 



24:8 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

While from the eyes shall stream without control, 
The nobler feelings of the throbbing breast. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

Then, if you love, and love is what it seems, 
So fix'cl, and yet so ardent in its plea, 

I would not turn away from its fond beams. 
But as you prove, such shall you find in me, 

TOM MOORE. 

It is enough — approving spirits smile — 

And if you love as ardently as I, 
No earthly intrigue can that love beguile. 

Nor sever such a holy woven tie. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

Your words are quite too positive, Tom Moore, 
The trying hours will prove them false and vain, 

Expressions of a love, so warm and pure, 

Will in the end, bring him who speaks to shame. 

Warm words may flow and easily along, 
But when their meaning full is really tried. 

You then indeed will sing a different song, 
And from the first will wander far and wide. 

TOM MOORE. 

But from these vows I shall not ever rove, 
Nor from you — darling object of my heart ; 

And as I now — so will I ever love, 

And from your wishes, I will ne'er depart. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 249 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

That so you feel, I would not now deny, 

Your words have egi'ess from a source too deep, 

Besides conviction flashes from your eye ; 
But love not always will its vigils keep. 

TOM MOORE. 

O may it keep them in these hearts of ours, 

Till they have ceas'd to beat, and sense grows blind. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

Would that it might, with all its sacred powers, 
But care and sorrow try all human kind. 

TOM MOORE. 

Good night. God bless you, dear, as you have bless'd ; 
Your words breathe hope instead of deep despair. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

Good night. May honor ever you possess. 
And truth and virtue be your chiefest care. 

[Exit Tom Moore, and scene closes.] 



SCENE SEVENTH. 

A private apartment in which is seated Third Beauty. Bell rings, 
and Third Beauty opens the door. 

Enter Tom Moore. 
TOM MOORE. 

Good evening, rose ; rejoiced am I too meet you. 



250 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

Good evening, sir ; with pleasure pure I greet you. 

TOM MOORE. 

With pleasure pure ? My grateful thanks 1 own. 

How I have long'd to meet ybu thus, my dear, 
And hold sweet converse with yourself alone. 

And tell the sweet pain'd pangs that flutter here. 

For you has swift wing'd Cupid poisVl his dart, 
And when sure-aim'd, let twang the fatal bow, 

The mystic point stands trembling in my heart, 
While from the wound, impulses stranger flow. 

O, say, must mine thus strangely feel alone. 

While yours, untouch'd, beats fetterless and free ? 

Not so, I trust — say you will be my own, 
And fortune, heart, and hand, I give to thee. 

And may fair angels ever o'er us smile, 

Show'ring rich blessings on each sacred tie, 

And may no sorrows our life's joys beguile. 
But death as one, transport us to the sky. 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

Indeed, Tom Moore, you take me by surprise, 
How wildly, yet how earnestly you talk ; 

I oft have wish'd that I was truly wise. 
That I might choose a proper future walk; 

Then I could answer all that you desire. 

But sure some strange emotion fills my breast, 



251 



Creeps through my veins, and my whole being fires ; 
If this is love, I yield to its behest. 

TOM MOORE. 

O, fairy spirit, from the upper skies, 

Sent down to bless the living world and me, 

How much of heaven sparkles in your eyes ! 
Your heart how noble, tender, mild and free ! 

May some right influence o'er your future way. 
Bend the bright rainbow of perpetual smiles ; 

And shedding from above a moral day. 

Drive ofl" each evil, which life's joys beguiles. 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

Would that there might, and virtue's fairest flowers, 
Wafting the perfumes of eternal truth. 

Might ever blossom in these hearts of ours, 
And give to age the fragrancy of youth. 

TOM MOORE. 

Well have you wish'd, my fairest, time will tell. 

Whether we shall participate or no ; 
Meantime, in every good we will excel. 

And drink the purest joys that glide below. 

Then we will love, and in that love, confide ; 

Whatever befalls us, or our lots may be. 
Though hills and oceans may our walks divide. 

Still heart will cling to heart with constancy. 



252 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

With this fair understanding then — good nio-ht ! 

May heaven pour its blessings on your head ! 
By rivers pure of innocent delights, 

The longings of your soul be quench'd, and fed. 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

Good night ! May the sweet dews of youth's fair morn 
Breathe pleasant odors o'er your future way ! 

May Wisdom's morning star, your brow adorn, 
And show within, an intellectual day, 



Sparkling its glories through your azure eyo>;. 
Just as Aurora gilds the East with light, 

When lovely Venus in those glowing skies. 
In beauty's garb, is rising high. Good night ! 

[Exit Tom Moore, and seem closes.] 



SCENE E IGHTH . 

A private apartment, wherein First Beauty is icalking alone in a con- 
templative manner. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Ah ! why should I these strange emotions feel, 
Now rising every moment in my breast, 

Which like vile serpentsthrough my vitals steal. 
And with their virus poison all my rest. 

Some voice these words seems whisp'ring in my ear : 
"Behold, as time glides silently away. 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 26S 

He whom you trust, and to yourself most dear, 
In act and word grows colder every day." 

What is the cause ? Is this affection tried ? 

Is not my heart, as ever, warm and kind ? 
Oh 1 what my father utter'd, when he died, 

With double force comes rushing back to mind. 

[E7iter Mis^ BxiyLOiiy havi7ig the appearance of a gossipping woman.l 

RUMOR. 

Has not Miss Pleabrook heard the latest news ? 



FIRST BEAUTY. 

What rumor now is busy on the wing ? 

RUMOR. 

You can not understand your P's and Q's, 
Or, else you'd deem it not a trifling thing ? 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

So many rumors jingle in my ear, 

I scarce give heed to any — all are vain ; 

If every sentence utter'd I should hear, 
What would avail except a puzzled brain ?' 

RUMOR. 

But this especially should claim your care — 
Should to reflection rouse your inmost soul ; 

For it, (if true,) spreads out a fatal snare, 
To seize, and all your fondest hopes control. 



254 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 
FIRST BEAUTY. 

And what in you has struck this ardent strain 
Concerning me ? Speak out, that I may hear 

What breach is made within the ranks I claim ? 
Have friends prov'd false, once confident and dear ? 

RUMOR. 

Yes, false and treacherous as that serpent vile. 
Which chains his victim's alluring charms, 

And while his eyes delight and safety smile, 
He mangles with his jaws thick-set with arms. 

Tom Moore, to whom you have confided all, 
And thought his all was stor'd alike in thee, 

Has wander'd wide from every principle, 
And vow'd his undivided love to three ; 

And this has done for many months, while you 
Have held him as your own — your sacred own, 

Not dreaming he could prove in least untrue, 
Yet he is false, as Falsehood on its throne. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Ah, me ! Where has my resolution fled ? 

That self-controlling staff which propp'd my heart 
When the lov'd spirit of my father fled. 

And left me here to act the orphan's part ? 

I breasting then the storm, withstood the blast. 

Though keen it swept my heart's string with its power; 

But now — 'neath this, sharp- whet with woe — alas ! 
I sink and wither as a mown-down flower ! 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 255 

But who are these that noAV doth share a part 

Of Tom Moore's fickle — worse than tickle heart ( 

Say, and if means of nature can, or art, 

We will revenge, and deal out smart for smart. 

RUMOR. 

The beauty next to you who thinks to share 
His undivided love and talents rare. 

Is daughter of Sir Bradock, rich and fair ; 
The next is Butler's, both a matchless pair, 
Each of whom think herself his only care. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Are these fix'd facts ? What proof is there makes plain ? 

RUMOR. 

There's proof enough — hundreds have heard and seen, 
And, undisputed, testify the same. 

And know that they on him, as you, do lean. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

[SoUloqidsinc/.] 

Oh, bosom ! writhing 'neath this fatal sting ! 

O cherish'd man ! — why proven false and vain ? 
Oh hope ! — once mine, now fled on viewless wing ! 

Oh black despair ! — Oh ever ceaseless pain ! 

You bid my father's slumb'ring shade arise, 
And breathe chastisement to my stubborn will. 

By this sad disappointment. Had I been wise, 
Obedient to father's counsels, still 



256 



I might have happy been, in this one thought, 

That I had listened to his latest voice 
In this extreme — (thus doing as I ought) — 

And 'gainst my will, shunn'd this wretched choice. 

But, now, this cloud of infamy and shame. 
In all its blackness rests upon my head ; 

And I'm responsible — alone to blame, 
For not observing what my father said. 

But I must meet these ones, deceived like me, 
And them of their unthought-of danger, warn ; 

Thus met in council, disappointed we. 

Will mete out to Tom Moore his well earn'd scorn. 

\_Curtain falls and scene closes.'] 



SCENE NINTH. 

A sitting room and Beauties No. 1, No. 2 and No. 3 assembled, and 
sitting as ihoxigli in deep consultation. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Oh what a shame ! — thus — thus to be betray VI I 

For he to me most solemnly has sworn 
That if one glance from him I could upbraid. 

That his fond heart should from its seat be torn. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

And we, how oft have hove deep sigh for sigh, 
Exchang'd in tenderness afiection's kiss ; 



THE TIIRKI': liKAUTIES : OR, TOM MOOKK. 257 

While feelings warm tlo\v\l out from eye to eye. 
And vow d that hymen soon should crown our l)liss. 

Oh what a dreary waste within my soul, 

Spread out by treachery from this false man, 

O'er which my sorrows surge without control. 
And dark despair waves o'er my everv plan. 

While deeper down the angry fountains boil, i 

Of now stirr'd up revenge, muddy and roilM, 

They mix with sorrow's waves, in wild turmoil. 
And cry, " Atonement, for each empty smile/' 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

Oh my heart wounded ! AVhy thus keenly feel 
The stroke of these most unexpected news t 

Which pierces me with its most cruel steel. 
And desolation o'er my future strews. 

Of late he did avow by breath and life. 
That every fiber knit his heart with mine, 

And if I would consent to be his wife, 

Most holy nuptial joys should both entwine. 

Shame on this gross neglect of every truth, 
This disregard for feelings, vows and tears. 

They blight the fairest verdure of our youth, 
A.nd spread a waste o'er all our future years. 

" Revenge ! " my bleeding bosom loudly cries, 
'' Revenge ! " shrieks out my deeply injur'd soul, 

And every impulse trembles, and replies, 
''Back on himself this tide of mis'ry roll." 
O 9* 



258 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

Till he the force of woman's wrongs shall feel. 
Most keenly feel, (for who deserves it more ?) 

Which like a serpent through his breast shall steal, 
And coil his heart, where love had twbi^d before. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Well have you said, fair girl, so may it be — 
The wrongs we feel, upon himself shall fall. 

By him be borne what he design'd for three, 

Distill'd from varied sweets, wormwood and gall. 

And may the scorpion of his conscience, sting 
His perjured soul, and lacerate his heart, 

And from these wounds, regret and anguish wring. 
For his most cruel and deceptive art. 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

But ere we measures take, or lay our plan. 
My father call, and let him hear the tale. 

Who with maturer mind each act will scan 
And say what means he thinks will best avail. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

I am agreed, what, counsel, more deserves % 

The which, when taken, we will make him heed. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

It suits me well. I wish I had the nerves 

To bind each broken tie that now doth bleed. • 

[Enter Father of Third Beauty.] 



THE THREE BEAUTIES: OR, TOM MOORE. 259 

THIRD BEAUTY. 

{Tntroduces Iter father to Firat and Second ) 

Father, Miss Pleebrook. 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

{Bo icing to First Beauty.) 
Welcome to my home. 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

{Replies to Father of Third.) 

Thanks, honor'd sir. we've met on business here. 

THIRD BEAUTY 

{To Second Beauty and Father.) 

Miss Butler, pa. 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

{I'o Second Beauty.) 

You also to m}^ own. 
Welcome, fair girl. 

SECOND BEAUTY. 

We wish you peace and cheer. 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

Glad you have honor'd me w^ith this one call, 
There seldom meets three fiiirer or more wise, 

If for my household. 1 could claim you all. 

What prince or king could show a richer prize ? 

FIRST BEAUTY. 

Not so — ■ our hearts, now desolate, are poor. 

If us you 'd think your gain, we 'd prove your loss. 



260 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 



Weigh first the .jewel, if you would be sure — 
For leaves of gold oft hide the sordid dross. 



THIRD BEAUTY. 
(T<> Fdtlwr.) 
A stranofe and naked truth has hrouoht these here. 
That truth with grief our inmost bosoms plows. 
That Sir Tom Moore, whom I have held so dear. 
Has pledgVl his love to these, with equal vows. 



We seek revenge, to make him keenly feel 

The force of woman's wrath, when justice reigns ; 

And on his heart his own curs'd misery seal, 
Till he repent in tears of grief and shame. 

We ask your wiser counsel, and your aid. 
To lay at once a broad and secret plan. 

To him ensnare ; and when we have repaid, 

Teach him to trace no more such '' vows on sand;'' 

And that the constant love of one true maid. 

Can never with another's be combin'd ; 
That worth of woman, rightly, truly weigh'd. 

Is only to be known, one at a time. 



FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

! — most strange indeed ! — 
But we will see what farther can be done. 



Ah ! that is it ! — most strange indeed ! — you're right ! 



THIRD BEAUTY. 

May it be quick — he visits me to night. 



THK THKRE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 261 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

I take ; retire, you tlu'ee, into the other room — 

Kec^p quiet there, and clos'd the sliding door, 
And I will manage all. and soon decide ; 

Though quite unskill'd in legal tact and lore, 
And little argument my plans to guide — 

But, hark I his well-known footsteps now 1 hear. 

Approaching the street door — make haste ! begone I 

{^TJic Three Beauties retire in ftastt.] 

Keep quiet there, and for me do not fear. 

Right soon, I'll lead this Tom Moore villain on. 

[Bell ri/if/s nud Tom Moork is ushered in.'] 
TOM MOORE. 

Good evening, sir— my long, most reverend friend, 
May heaven give you blessings as you need. 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

Good evening, sir. Be seated, condescend. 
The weather, out, appears quite tine indeed. 

TOM MOORE. 

Quite tine indeed it seems to be just now. 
But floating clouds to-da}^ of every form, 

Have held a meeting ending in a row. 
And all of their proceedings being warm, 
Tis judged that the result will be a storm. 



262 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

As wise as this man seems, and so devout. 

Student of nature and of all reform, 
Knows not the analogy twixt in, and out. 

The inward, and the outtvard gathering storm. 

[To Tom 3Ioore.] 
Tom Moore, there is a rumor in the wind. 

A busy rumor, of a startling kind, 

That you, to every sense of duty lost. 
And to each noble impulse deaf and blind. 

Have vow^d your only love, reckless of cost, 

To three fair girls, each of a worthy heart. 
Whose warm affections in return are given. 

Without the thought of guile upon their part. 
You, caring not to Avhat despair they "re driven ; 

Each word of which, I do believe is true. 

O heartless wretch — that you could thus deceive ; 
Vengeance by right from heaven should fall on you. 

And fall it will, I faithfully believe. 

For none, beholding, will withhold his hand. 
But answering to the prayers of these fair girls, 

Upon your brow deep infamy will brand. 

For which you'll have the scoffs of the whole world. 

[Tom Moore looks confased, and then slowly rises (i ad paces the room 
in a confused manner, and suddenly faces Father of Third 
Beauty.] 

TOM MOORE. 

What sland'rous words are these that \o\\ have said ? 



m 



THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 263 

Tlitil you eiidoi'sio tlieiii is must stnuige — 
(I never wrong'd a hair upon your head) — 
All the cause that I can think of, is a change 

In your fair daughter's feelings, or her views, 

And this the way you take to tell the news — 

With this most shameful preface, like a fable ; 

But, sir, the ground you take is actionable ! 

The law (my potent remedy) shall teach 

A caution to such liberties of speech. 

But, if in this fair inference, I err. 

And do you least injustice, honorVl sir, 

To justly throw the blame where it belongs. 

Perhaps youll name the author of my wrongs. 

That those who fram'd the lie, and from material raw. 

May be rebuked by the stern majesty of Law. 

[Father op Third Beauty slowly rises from his chair and shores 
back the sliding door entering in the room where the Three Beauties 
are sitting, quiet as for a tableau, and motions with his cane as by 
incantation.'] 

FATHER OF THIRD BEAUTY. 

Come forth, ye victims of a plighted love ! 

Your wrongs would move the world and heaven above ! 

{The Three Beauties, all arm in arm, with sloio and measured pace 
march into the room which Father and Tom Moore occupy, Tom 
Moore almost wild with chagrin and consternation.] 

Now, are you satisfied, aspiring man. 

With my authority, you questional so ? 
Behold the ruins your false pledges span, 

Open to you the gate of bitter woe. 



264 THE THREE BEAUTIES : OR, TOM MOORE. 

The world is wide — go forth and these forget — 
We all will spare you now with small regret. 
Tried and condemn'd. pass out my injured door. 
And from the esteem of all forevermore. 

[Fatheh of Third Beauty opens the street door, ami Tom Moori: 
pale and confused, passes out in silence.] 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



SCENE TENTH. 

A diin^y lighted street, along which Tom IAoouk sloidy passes, solil- 
oquising, in a loio yet distinct voice. 

TOM MOORE. 

How have I been out-generaPd by these girls — 
So taken in, and banish'd for my crime ; 

But one thing I will carry through the world - 
This lesson dearly learn'd ; One at a Time, 
One at a Time, young man, One at a Time, 

CURTAIN FALLS AND SCENE CLOSES. 



THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 265 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE ASSASSINATION OF 
PRESIDENT GARFIELD, 

ATTEMPTED JULY 2nD, 1881, AND WHO DIED SEPTEMBER 
19th, of THE SAME YEAR. 

All was serene, and peace had stretch'd its reign 
From sea to sea, throughout our vast domain; 
The ship of state sat on unruffled blue. 
Which mirror'd ship and flag, in colors true. 

Yet, deep beneath, within the people's soul, 
Forebodings rose, of something dread untold, 
How such a peace, like rainbow of the morn, 
Must pillow'd be on an approaching storm. 

While thus the people's mind 'neath this smooth sea 
Was stretched on tip-toe of expectancy, 
A great event, by villain's hand let fall. 
Went down into its depths, and startled all. 
Great waves recede on waves from where it fell. 
Till all was agitation rock'd. Wild swell 
Succeeded swell, each whisp^-ing o'er and o'er, 
As lav'd was every town upon our shore. 
'' Garfield is shot, and soon will be no more ! " 

Tlie ship of state, full-rigg'd, dropp'd to half mast 
Her floating stars and colors as they passed ; 
12 



THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 

And people, wild, and pale, and anguisli-thrilPd, 

With these strange words the passing breezes fill'd 

'' And can it be our President is kilPd? " 

'' Oh hand of shame, and mind most meanl}' low. 

To deal to this great people such a woe ! " 

'-' O who can steer the ship so well as he, 

A foe to every wrong and all iniquity." 

'^ An Arthur's hand is dangerous at this hour — 

Gartield must live, O God of matchless power/' 



siiiune. 



And then from every altar rose a prayer 
Of deep solicitude, that God would spare 
Our great Official head, and him inspire. 
With power divine and wisdom's purging fire 
To cleanse each wrong, and burn cnich purple 
That like foul blots disgrace our very name — 
To give him strength of mind, and vision clear. 
Our ship of state o'er dangerous seas to steer — 
Seas whose dark, swollen Avaters are supplied 
From human hearts, by human passions dyed. 
Thus all the people pray'd with one accord, 
And said, "- Thy will, not ours, be done, O Lord.'' 
Thus streamlet joining streamlet, prayer arose 
In one vast sea, which wide and wider grows. 
As it ascends before Jehovah's throne, 
Making the wants of a vast people known. 



The Father saw this prayer-filFd ocean rise. 
That in it full, swell'd above the skies ; 
And as his will is to make haste to hear, 
And answer heart-felt, unfeignYl holy prayer, 



THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. '2^)1 

The aiiii't'l of forbearing mercy sent, 
l\j follow back this stream of prayer intent. 
And to its warm appeals swift answer give, 
And bid this chieftain for a time to live. 

As quick as thought the angel earthward bound. 

Descends from heaven, and bathes the bleeding wound, 

And with that balm which God to angels lend. 

He feeds that soul, and strengthens it again. 

And now these waves, news bearing, sweeping by, 

A different language speak — they softly sigh, 

''The hope is now, that Garfield will not die.'' 

The shi[) of state her drooping flag uprearVl 

Aloft, then three times Avav'd it — three times clieer'd, 

Then gave it to the breeze at full mast head, 

The dear old flag, of white, and blue, and re J ; 

And as it floated there, kiss'd by the sun, 

Garfield's great, noble bust was upward run 

Close to its sacred folds, just underneath, 

Wliere it suspended hung " in bold relief; " 

And still below, was on a banner wrote, 

'* Long live our President to see this float.*" 

From twice ten thousand cannons lightnings leap. 

Whose deep-ton'd thunders shake the mighty deep; 

Then, loud huzzas, like roarings of the seas. 

And this acclaim floats on the passing breeze : 

" Long live our chief ! — our noble flag, long wave ! 

By God protected, by his wisdom, sav'd." 

Then silence reigns, — and still the flag floats high, 

As if to say, *'The bearer must not die." 



THE ASSASSIXATIOX OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 

To people's pallid lips the color ciinie, 

Which whispered blessings to his honor'd name; 

This, westward rolling, the Pacific slope 

Gave speedy answer back, " We pray and hope." 

The news across old briny ocean rolFd, 

And to all nations the warm story told. 

The old world heard, and said, or seem'd to say, 

•* We sympathise with young America," 

And many high crown'd heads their wishes sent, 

"That long might live the much lov'd President." 

The far-off peopFd isles took up the strain. 

And join'd the song in honor of his name ; 

And storm-beat ocean on its billowy track. 

In hoarser murmurs gave the echo back. 

And when bright hope arose and banish'd fear. 
O'er our broad country swept wild cheer on cheer, 
And thanks to God, that an assassin's hand 
Was not allow'd to blight our favor'd land. 

But what appeared to us the dawn of day. 
Was soon to close in night, and that, for aye , 
For darkness settled on our country wide. 
On that eventful night when Garfield died ; 
And other countries mourn'd besides our own, 
When the sad tale was told, and all was known. 



But, unperceived. Onmiscience from on high. 

Doth every great transaction underlie. 

And when we deem (so short of sight we are,) 



THK ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT (JAKFIEI D. 2()9 

'^ 'Tis noii-fnltillment of our soul felt prayer/* 
In some mysterious way, least understood, 
All thincrs are workinir for the greatest irood. 

So, when at Gartield's sudden death, a })al]. 
Fell at each door, and o'er the hearts of all. 
And night seem'd settled in, and deep despair 
To mock the earnestness of heart-felt pra^^er. 
And faith seem VI yielding up the field to doul)t. 
And thickest o'loom was in, and round about, 
This strange mysterious power was blending then 
The roughest corners of the hearts of men ; 
And by the touch of grief, as by design. 
Made all our feelings one ; and every line 
'Twixt factions and all parties seeking power; 
Bade melt away in that most trying hour — 
Discords to be forgot, and feuds, and selfish pride; 
And foes to mingle tears that he had died. 
Thus, with the cords of love was bound anew, 
The nation's scroll of red, and white, and blue. 

God of our fathers, who in days bygone. 

Didst hear the praj^er of our lov'd Washington. 

While praying with his naked sword full drawn. 

And victory gave his arms in that dark hour. 

And to his people, liberty and power. 

Who didst behold us in our deep distress. 

By meager want and tyranny oppressed ; 

And when we cried from out these dei)ths of grief. 

Didst send to us a swift and sure relief. — 

O be our heavenly dispensator still. 



270 THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 

And this great nation's cup with blessings till ; 

O break the clouds of darkness and of sin, 

And let the light of truth and virtue in — 

Let it shine down into the nation's soul, 

And the straight gates to Wisdom's fields unfold; 

That all her councils may walk in and view, 

The public good, redundant germ anew; 

Like precious seeds o'er fields profusely strown, 

Each bearing some fair blossoms of its own, 

That in some fi-agrant and enticing way, 

Foreshadow better times, and brighter day. 

FINIS. 



